Wanted: Fairy Godmother
by Backroads
Summary: Tansy is a beautician. Tansy wants a job. Tansy winds up doing the hair and makeup of fairy tale girls.
1. Mr Maser

"Monica's Beauty College?" the man repeated. Rowan Maser, I think was his name. His thick fingers threatened to crush my résumé.

Okay, so perhaps it had been rather tacky to print it out on purple paper. My own fault for being so addicted to _Legally Blonde_. I gritted my teeth and nodded. "Yes, I attended the college for three years. Graduated a few months back."

Mr. Maser's face remained blank. "I've never heard of it."

"It's on Harrison Boulevard," I said. "Next to the Wendy's?" Goodness grief, was I asking a question? I ran a hot pink nail down the rip in my jeans and silently planned more confidence.

He held up a hand defensively. "I'm not doubting its existence, Miss Bryner. I was only commenting. But... but I do wonder if it's a reputable school."

Of course Monica's was a reputable school! It had only taken me four applications and stalking Monica herself to let me in. Girls trained at Monica's wound up working at professional salons or even making it to television networks and all of that. Yet here was I, not doing any of that, just answering a very vague newspaper ad. I forced a smile. "Monica's is one the finest beauty school in the state."

I don't think Mr. Maser cared. He didn't seem the kind of guy to care about anything. Old, at least forty, not exactly in the pique of health, red hair already balding and greying. What sort of person was he to need a beautician? His thin lips smiled back. "Good to hear. Perhaps that sort of education is what we're looking for."

"Good, because I really need this job." Ugh. I could have smacked myself. One not supposed to ramble and beg at interviews. That was a first no-no. "Sorry."

Mr. Maser's turned back to my hideously purple résumé. "And I see that you were working toward an associates degree in social work."

I almost laughed. Real college. That had been a pure joke, pure mistake. Two semesters at community college and a job at Burger King, and for what? I can't believe I had let people talk me into college. "Yes. It was a degree I am no longer involved in."

He shrugged. "It's hard to do anything with a social work degree of that level, anyway So make-up and hair is more your thing, then?"

Was he trying to sound cool? I pointed at my own hair. What usually took other people half a pack of bobby pins and a bottle of hair spray had been turned into a blonde piled bun on my head with a quarter of the work. "Yes, it's always been a talent of mine. I like make-up and hair." Yes, that was it. Sell myself. That's what you were supposed to do. "I do my mom's and my friends' all the time."

"It looks... nice."

I hope I hadn't gone over on the make-up. I happened to like bright colors, and I had panicked preparing for the interview. "You have my portfolio."

He glanced at the thick binder on the desk, then nodded. "Yes. Very impressive."

I smiled and nodded myself. This was getting awkward. Were all interviews this bad? Well, this wasn't exactly the place I had envisioned for an interview. It was more like a... other job interview place. Drab brown office, cluttered with papers and bad photographs of beaches. Dull and reminiscent of Mr. Maser himself. Did his company, or whatever it was, even do hair?

He studied over my résumé another minute, then sighed. "All right, Miss Bryner, I guess I'll give you the job."

It was all I could do to not jump out of my chair screaming. I had a job. My first job! All wonderful with work and a paycheck so I could pay my rent and maybe go shopping. Fortunately, all I said was "Thank-you."

He muttered something under his breath. "I should tell you about the job's details, shouldn't I?"

I expected it would be the normal beauty stuff.

He continued. "This is not a regular salon, as I'm sure you've noticed. Our clients seek something more clandestine than the usual sort of walk-in-off-the-street boutique. Our customers are... often very difficult. They are lacking confidence and are always somewhat unsure of themselves. Oh, that was redundant, wasn't it? Anyway, your job will be to make all their dreams come true and win them the hearts of handsome princes."

I laughed. That sort of stuff didn't seem right coming out of someone as boring as Mr. Maser. "Well, if I have a brush and a make-up kit, that shouldn't be too difficult."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you accept the terms?"

"I sure do." Pause. "What's the dress code? Can I come like this?"

He took in my patched/frayed jeans and my bright orange shirt with the strawberries on it. Perhaps I should have worn something more professional. But at least I had the job. "We don't have a dress code. Usually the employee wears something more... flowy. But technically there is no dress code."

"Good enough for me. When do I start?"

He checked his watch. "Next Monday. How does that work for you?"

Considering I was out of school, had no boyfriend, and needed this job... "Works great."

"Then be here at 9 AM sharp," Mr. Maser replied. "Well, not here. But you saw the white door next to mine? Go in there."

"White door, nine AM," I repeated, and flashed him a thumbs-up.

He rolled his eyes. "Thank-you and goodbye, Miss Bryner. Or... " He glanced back down at the paper. "... Tansy. I guess that's your first name, Tansy Bryner. But now Tansy. We have a policy to call employees by their first names. Makes things more personal, and we have a very personal business. Though I think I prefer Miss Bryner."

I stood up, not wanting to argue about my name. "Tansy will be fine."

"Have a good day," he said with a yawn. Which ended mid. "Oh... Tansy. I have one more thing."

I stopped in the process of slipping my bag over my shoulder.

He reached under his desk and pulled out a long, skinny box. "You'll need this Monday. Standard equipment."

I took the box. "Thank-you." What was it? Some special curling iron?

"Hopefully you'll learn to use it." Another yawn. "You may leave now, Tansy."

I stuck the box into my bag and practically skipped out of the office. I was excited. Very excited. I had a job. A very weird job, but a job none the less. I entered the hall where Mr. Maser's office had been. A perfectly normal hall. Off-white walls with a flower border. Looked like something out of a medical office. But it worked.

And next to Mr. Maser's door was another white door. Not a salon. Just what had I gotten myself into? Television crews sort of make-up department. The place had better not be a mortuary. Well, I would be at that white door on Monday.

"How did it go?" the receptionist asked from her desk. Mary, her name plaque read. She seemed nice enough. Cute little girl barely out of high school, looking the size of the average 6th grader.

I grinned at her. "I got the job!"

She grinned back. Oh, but I would love to dump some make-up over those thin, elfin features. Do something with her hair. She was cute, like I said. Definite potential. And she did seem nice. "Then I hope you enjoy working here!"

"Yeah," I replied. "Though it doesn't seem like a normal salon."

"It isn't. Very high class."

I hoped so. After all, I had found the add in the back of the newspaper. And all that had said was "Wanted: Girl Talented in Beauty." Well, I could make people look good.

Amy punched something into her computer. "I just hope you can handle it. A lot of girls get hired and freak after the first day."

I shook my head. "I'm desperate for a job. I graduated a month ago, top of my class, and haven't found anything. So I think I'll be forced to stick around no matter what."

"You had better."

I really didn't like the way she had said that. Well, working at a place long enough made one cynical. I gave her a goodbye and headed out of the main door. Maybe there was a Wendy's nearby.


	2. The Stick

It would be so that the gods of irony would decree that I would arrive home from gaining my first job to find Michael's voice on my answering machine. There it was, the blinking red '3' situated on the bookshelf between the Mary Higgins Clark paperbacks and the battered edition of the Complete Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm. Now one or two messages in a few hours was normal, but that one extra number was enough to announce the vocal presence of Michael.

I tossed my purse and the remainder of my Wendy''s meal on the couch and let the door slam shut behind me——the lady down the hall whose name I had yet to learn would probably whine about that tomorrow. "Michael," I muttered. "Why are you calling me?" The number 3 continue to blink.

A mirror hung over the television set. An odd place for a mirror, but it was a convenient enough position to check my appearance during the commercial breaks of _Smallville_. Oh, but Tom Welling deserved the best from me. Good thing the actor was older than the character. I paused before the mirror and brushed a stray blonde lock back into place. Now I looked perfect. As usual. Though the lipstick needed replacing. Well, Michael didn't deserve lipstick while I listened to his message. After all, I hadn't seen the boy in almost a month. Yes, one month next week. Kendra and I had booted him out of the apartment during the middle of slip-covering the couch. Michael had never understood decorating.

The couch, speaking of that, looked great. Bright yellow. Sunflowers were my favorite, and Kendra, my artsy friend who liked to dabble in _Trading Spaces_ impersonations, had set to work on the living room. Now my apartment was not fantastic by any means, nothing to boast of in _Better Homes and Gardens_ or _Lucky_. One bedroom, one bath, most space devoted to a little kitchen/dining room/living room. Well, I was young and single and hadn't exactly been raised in the lap of luxury, so cheap rent suited me fine. Now with a yellow couch and murky mirages of sunflowers pressed into a sandy wall, I thought the place was downright gorgeous.

I picked a piece of chicken from my teeth. Yup. Gorgeous. Just like me. No wonder Michael was calling.

I was going to feel very stupid if there were no message from Michael.

The first message was from my mom. Probably calling to chew me out about Michael. She had actually liked him, the crazy woman. The second call was a wrong number. I deleted it. Could no one hear the perky "You've reached Tansy Bryner!"?

And the third was, surprise surprise, from Michael.

For an eternally long moment my finger hovered over the 'delete'. He hadn't called me in a week. I had almost dared hope that he would finally give up and leave me alone. Just maybe. That was the irritating thing about Michael. Most guys might pester you for a few days or even a week after the breakup and then move onto the next thing-in-a-skirt to waltz into Wal-Mart, but not Michael.

"Tansy, baby kitten, it's me," said his voice.

"Me who?" I replied, knocking a picture frame out of the way. I usually kept an emergency lipstick on the bookshelf.

"Tansy, I know that you said it was over, but I can't stop thinking about you. I know that you said you never wanted to see me again, but I really think we should get together and talk."

"You probably want the iPod back." I found the lipstick. Boy, but it could be satisfying talking to a machine. "Well, the iPod is mine now! And all the songs of yours on it."

"You see, I found your old N'Sync CD in my car last night, and it made me think so much of you. And our song."

N'Sync did not sing our song. "We never had a song, moron. 'Sides, that entire CD is on the iPod." Oh, how I loved his iPod. Now I had been fond of Michael, while we were dating. Though I had never felt the way about him that I had felt about Jeff. But that mistake had been two years ago. But Michael's iPod, the one he had bought just two weeks before our breakup, now that I loved.

"You know I still care about you." His voice was pleading, a pathetic state for something so annoyingly deep and husky. ""At least, I want you to know that. I want us to be able to work through this."

I squeezed the lipstick over my lips and pressed. "Don't count on it, Michael."

"Bye, baby kitten."

I hit the 'delete' button. "Night, Michael." I flopped onto the couch. _Smallville_ wouldn't be on for another two hours. Was that so pathetic of me? Devote a Friday night to watching _Smallville_? Reasonably, I should be gathering the girls together for pizza or video, or maybe even dancing. I hadn't been dancing for so long. I had a job, albeit one I had no clue about. But I had never been the one to ask too many questions. All in all, that deserved a celebration!

But somehow I didn't feel quite up to it. The girls would have to wait for a celebration.

My purse lay next to me, half open. The box Mr. Maser had given me poked out. I pulled it out and stared at the box. Far too slender to be a normal curling iron. I pulled off the lid.

Inside lay a long white stick.

No image of a page of beauty supply catalog jumped up in my mind. This had no plug, no switch. It was a stick. I pulled it out and tested it in my hand. Testing for what, I had not idea. But it was smooth, heavier than expected. It set it back on the table. "So, Mr. Stick, what do you?"

It continued to lie there.

Now this was unacceptable. I had barely graduated high school and college had been a complete mistake, but if there was one thing I knew, it was beauty, and I knew beauty. But I still had no idea what this thing was. "I know you're hiding something. I know you're important."

My clock radio ticked in the background. A perfect soundtrack to…… a stick.

I leaned back into the couch and sighed. This wasn't right. Mr. Maser had hired me because I was a licensed beautician. He obviously wanted a beautician. He even said something about that in my job description. At least that's what I thought it alluded to. But apparently that man was crazy. Crazy because all he had given me was this psychotic stick. But it had to be something I knew. A curler? No, too long. A curling iron. Nothing like I had ever seen. Perhaps it contained a little something extra to be added to the dye chemicals when they were mixed. Maybe. I continued to stare at the stick. It had to be something.

The stick suddenly jolted. I screamed.

The jolt came from the door. Knock loud enough on that thing and the entire place rattled. I grabbed the stick and shoved it back into the box. How embarrassing. Me in here talking to a stick. It was probably the crazy lady down the hall. It was probably Michael.

The door opened, and in stepped a walking pack of pink carnations and white baby's breath with a giant box of chocolates. "Delivery for Miss Tansy Bryner. Aka 'Baby Kitten.'"

"That would be me." Did he see anyone else in the room?

A face appeared around the flowers. The guy wasn't even that cute. "Here ya go. They're from a Michael Laub."

"Of course." The purse was still in my lap. I fished out a crumpled dollar bill for tip and took the flowers. I hated carnations. He didn't even know what my favorite flower was. At least the chocolate was okay. Chocolate was always okay.

The breakup with Michael hadn't been exceptionally dramatic, I suppose. Just the usual things, us going our separate ways. It just wasn't working. Except he couldn't see that. The thing is, when a guy was out of my life, he was out of my life. I don't believe in the whole friendship thing.

I grabbed the fairy tales book and opened the chocolates. It was one way to spend a Friday night. Worked for me. Lie here, eating trash, and reading about Prince Charming. What more could a girl want?


	3. Princesses

Monday morning was quick to rear its awesome head. Sadly enough, I had long since turned my back on the rest of humanity in a daring response to welcome, whole-heartedly, Monday mornings. Apparently I just couldn't let the fact that I was a morning person be my whole vibe; I needed more. I refused to experience the hatred and dread of leaving a weekend to return to work––now that I had a job, I would embrace it.

I strolled into the building, singing Cheryl Crow at the top of my lungs––horribly off-key, I might add. My voice clashed instantly with the blast of country music blaring from a radio at the desk. The same skinny elfin girl from Friday, bopping her head and typing furiously at her computer.

"I'm here!" I sang, threading the words into the tune but no particular lyric pun. "I'm a bit early; is Mr. Maser expecting me?"

The girl looked up, all dear-in-the-headlights. Apparently she hadn't heard me come in. "You were supposed to be here at..." Her eyes dropped to a few forms.

"9:00." It was 8:50. "I was so excited, I came early. I didn't know what the traffic would be like."

She nodded briefly.

Wasn't exactly chatty, was she? She had seemed friendly on Friday. Perhaps she was just shy. I flicked back my hair––worn today in pigtails–– and pulled up the thirty-pound leopard-print bag I had dragged from my car. Monica's type of standard equipment, though the leopard-print had been my personal touch. "I brought my kit! Mr. Maser didn't say anything about it, but I thought it best to prepared. It has everything. Brushes, make-up in all four seasons, a few cases of dye, curlers, hair dryer, shampoo and conditioner, manicure/pedicure kit, facial stuff..."

The girl's eyes just grew wider.

I was rambling. Rambling wasn't good. I knew myself that it would take ages to describe everything in the kit . I couldn't figure out why I was even bothering. Now I was the awkward one. But if I could just whip out some of that make-up... winter-tones, for this girl, and get something on her eyelids...

"I suppose Mr. Maser is in his office still," she finally replied. "I suppose he'll be wanting to see you. Mr. Maser does like punctuality."

There was something very wrong here. I leaned onto the desk, arms folded. "He told me Friday that he's all about everyone calling each other by their first names and junk. Yet he's Mr. Maser? What's that about?"

"Because," she said tersely.

Her voice was just louder enough than usual to provide some humor. We both laughed.

"I guess I should let you know my name as well," I said, extending my hand. "I'm Tansy Bryner. I don't think I said it last week."

"I guessed from your sheet." So much friendlier this time around. "I'm Mary Cromwell. The..." she gestured at the desk. "The receptionist."

"I figured as much." Yes, she was nice enough. With some makeup she would have made a great Homecoming attendant in high school. Maybe she had been. I'd have to ask her at a more appropriate time. "Work here long?"

The fresh smile instantly vanished, and her lip slid under her teeth. "Actually..."

The white door opened, and Mr. Maser stepped out. Just as badly dressed as last time. If I didn't know any better, I would have said he had lost more hair. Well, perhaps he had. "Kansy?" His eyes settled on me, and he frowned.

I assumed that was me. I raised my hand. "It's Tansy."

"Tansy. You're early."

I forced a laugh and a semi-curtsey. "Small town girl. I was taught to be early. Or fashionably late. Depended on the event. But I figured a job was important."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Well, follow me into the office."

"Good luck," Mary whispered.

I sat back down into Friday's chair and focused on a painting. I had always wished I could paint. I sort of could; at least I dabbled. Mr. Maser settled himself at his desk and began to knot his fingers. I could hear the joints crack. Disgusting.

"Good to see you bright and early, Tansy," he said.

"I brought my kit."

He barely glanced at it. "Good, good. Did you bring your standard equipment?"

The stick? I remembered shoving it in the kit the night before... "It's in here somewhere!" I snapped open the kit. Three tubes of lipstick tumbled out. That's because my thinning scissors were in their normal spots... I had to clean this thing out eventually.

Mr. Maser sighed and muttered something about hiring that other girl.

I clenched my teeth against the blush that I could feel terrorizing over my face. This was not professional. This was so not professional.

I finally found the thing stuck behind the 2-inch barrel curling iron. "Got it! What is it, anyway?"

"You mean you haven't guessed?"

"Was I supposed to?"

Then, for the first time, I saw him smile. It was scary, almost, the strange warmth it added to his features. "I believe I explained the synopsis of your job description last time. I thought you would have..." He shook his head and lifted his hand as if to wipe the entire matter away. "Never mind, many haven't. Tansy, I'd like you to follow me. Bring the standard equipment. Leave the rest. You may not need it immediately."

And for the second time in under a minute, I crossed through his door.

Mary was on the telephone, but mouthed me another "good luck."

Boy, but did that girl need lipstick. In spring colors. She was very much a spring.

"You see, Tansy," Mr. Maser said as he led me down the hall from the desk––something I hadn't noticed before. "This business... it isn't your normal beauty business. We work with more... eclectic clients, you might say. Not your average people. Normally you might wonder exactly how they come to us, but with recent advances in chronological and literary communication we have been able to set up a thriving enterprise in the service sector, and I think you should be proud to be part of such."

I nodded, not wanting to admit I hadn't understood a single word. Vocabulary had never been my strong point.

A dark-haired girl in a flowing pink dress passed us, muttering over some papers in her hand.

"'Morning, Linda," Mr. Maser said automatically. "You'll be working with Linda a lot, Tansy. Though I recommend you meet her when she is in a better mood. You see, much of this work can be quite stressful. To put it mildly. You see, we rarely have walk-in customers. They must apply for an appointment with... you." He stopped in front of a door. The white door he had mentioned before. The only difference was a gold plaque with the word "OUT".

"An exit?" I said incredulously.

"Once upon a time," he elaborated. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned.

Even Kendra couldn't have put this room together. The stick almost dropped from my hand. The room was of stone, etched into place like that of a palace, white and tan and gold, all sparkling like noontime. A thick purple carpet snaked its way through. There were shelves and shelves of all sorts of beauty supplies, all of the most respected stylists and designers. Half a dozen dryer chairs lined one wall. The mirrors were lit with what seemed to be hundreds of lights. It was beautician heaven. And beyond that... more doors. Not white and boring, but... all different. Sizes, shapes, colors. It was a door candy store.

Mr. Maser led me over the floor. It was all I could do to not rip off my sandals right then and there and just feel the carpet between my toes.

"I suppose the most appropriate job title would be something you are probably familiar with." He opened one door, one of reddish wood. "You and Linda and all the others girls are what people like to call fairy godmothers."

Was he trying to be funny again? "Fairy godmothers?"

"Exactly."

The door swung open, and I screamed.

It wasn't another room, it wasn't even the back alleys of the town.

It wasn't even morning.

It was a wood lit by a glowing moon.

* * *

Somehow I found myself pushed along by Mr. Maser down the most twirling little path of dust that would never, ever be found in a normal wood. The stick had found its way to my pocket--not a comfortable fit at all but one that seemed to find delight slapping against my ribs. Funny how it was one of the first things I would notice. A wood that was certainly not part of the zoning district, night when it was supposed to be morning, and a cute little path in the trees.

Other people would be in the floor in fetal position, doing whatever felt most childishly safe. Not that I wasn't there already in my mind. The sad thing is that I think I was definitely smiling. Probably the only thing that was keeping me from screaming.

"I like to start my employees off cold turkey," Mr. Maser drawled. His fist closed around my shoulder to steer me around a rock. A nice cute little rock in the middle of the trees.

I nodded quickly. The smile was starting to hurt. "Cold turkey. Yes. Wonderful. Of course. I don't mind cold turkey. Leap right into the job." Did I have any calming aromatherapy in the kit I had left in his office?

Mr. Maser was out to get me.

"Well, you won't actually be working with this client today. You still have training to complete. But my training, I like to have it..."

"Cold turkey?" I volunteered. My heart was about to drop through my legs, and my eyes kept whirling to the trees. Sounds were out there. Scary animal sounds. I had never been much of an outdoorsy girl. The minimum level for a small-town girl, and that was it. I wasn't good with animals. If a bat flew out of those branches and into my air, every scream building up inside me would burst out in a panic. Mr. Maser would hopefully die in the process. What sort of business was he running here?

"Cold turkey." He forced me to a stop. "Here is where she lives."

I hadn't noticed the cottage--another few steps and I would have made a face-plant with a splintery door. Black and globby and fitting in too perfectly with dark trees. It was a nightmare.

Is this where fairy godmothers worked? I wanted the pretty salon room. I wanted that back.

"I do hope she's awake," Mr. Maser mused, stepping around me. "She tends to stay up quite late--good thing late night television doesn't exist in this world."

"Who are you talking about?" I was proud of myself. I was capable of asking questions without another scream whirling out.

He ignored me and rapped sharply on the door.

For a long time no one answered. The knock seemed to ring continually into the darkness, enveloping Mr. Maser and myself in a too-awkward silence.

And then the voice. Female and rough. "Anyone gonna get that?"

Mr. Maser muttered something under his breath.

"Hello? For crying out loud, I clean all day and... hello? Anyone here?"

Was she talking to us?

The door flung open. "Oh. You."

The scene was an odd mix of beauty and Gollumesque disfigurement. A dainty hand clutched the door, its arm following loosely back to the shoulder. All was wrapped in a pale green nightdress sleeve that revealed the palest skin I had ever seen outside an albino. Thick black braids slunk down to her waist. Her dark eyes glared at us from behind a masque of green not much darker than the gown. They were brooding and matched all-too-well the frown. She was not happy to see us. "Oh, you. Maser. Rowan Maser. Did I get your name right?" Same nasty tone continued.

As fascinated as I was by the young woman, I couldn't help but want to see Mr. Maser's reaction. There was none. Just a stone hard face and a smile that somehow came off as naturally cordial. I hadn't expected much of that. "Yes, yes, you did. Did I wake you?"

She shook her head, the black braids pulling at her gown. "No, you're fine. I was reading by the fire. Great new book from town, haven't read anything good in so long. And then you knocked and I ASSUMED they were home but... men. I swear, as soon as I get a prince, I am so out-of-here!" Her hand slipped from the door. "By the way, how is that coming? I have been here for months, and I still don't have a prince. And I know that I'm gorgeous. I was told that every stupid day until I came here to these creeps that wouldn't know good looks if it bit them in the face. Which it should, speaking of that."

Ugh. Who went around saying they were hot? In that tone? But... but she was beautiful. Underneath the mask and out of the puffy nightdress, she had to be extremely beautiful. I could tell it in her features. Dainty, but not too dainty. Good and tall. Dark eyes and hair... popular for that more dramatic definition of beauty. Suddenly I felt very brash. Yes, the more I looked at her, the more lovely I realized she was. By anyone's standards.

"It's something we're working on," Mr. Maser said with surprising smoothness. "You do realize that you have to put some effort into it yourself."

She raised one perfectly trimmed eyebrow. "I have been working my hardest! I make them do their own dishes so the soap won't dry my hands. I've been exercising. I have on this stupid masque that last girl told me about, and I don't think it's making my skin any softer, but at least I'm doing it! I'm doing my part!"

Mr. Maser had no reply for that. Just the same understanding smile.

The girl sighed and, for the first time, looked to me. "Is this the new girl?" Her face lifted in the closest thing to a smile. "Doesn't look the type to encourage natural beauty?"

What was that supposed to mean? I tried to control my own freakish smile. "I hope you mean that as a compliment, honey." Somehow that last word had snuck in there with its own level of derisiveness.

She didn't seem to notice. "Sure. I'm always up for something new. Despite what this man tells you." She flicked bangs from her forehead. "But you had better be good. How is she, Master Rowan?"

"She's new," he replied. "But she seems most qualified."

She gave me an eye-over. "Well, she had better be. I didn't like the last girl. Samantha or whatever her name was. Linda wasn't too bad. Janie... she was just as bad as my stepmother. Are you nice?"

It took me a moment to realize she was talking to me. I forced a nod. Had she ever heard of manners?

"Good. I like nice people. Now come back with plans that are actually good." Her hand went to the door again, tensing in obvious preparation to slam it. But my thought of manners must have somehow telepathically reached her. The smile increased, and several tons of syrup and sugar melted into her voice. "Master Rowan, are you going to introduce us?"

"Of course. How silly of me." Then he bowed. He actually bowed. "Princess Snow White, meet Tansy Bryner, your new fairy godmother. Tansy, meet the Princess Snow White."

I almost choked.

Snow White, the girl whose name was apparently Snow White, plucked up the hem of her nightdress and curtsied as proper as you could please. "Pleased to meet you. Now I need my beauty sleep." This time the door did slam.

And I stood there staring at it. Snow White. Snow White's cottage.

"Snow can be much more charming in the daylight, I'm sure you'll find." Mr. Maser spun around and began marching back down the path. "Sometimes at night, the dwarves leave for the mines, and she can get temperamental when lonely. Try not to take it personally."

Hah. She was probably the type of person that was equally nasty to everyone. But that wasn't how Snow White was supposed to be. She was supposed to be nice... was she really Snow White? I ran after him as best as I could without tripping. "That was Snow White?"

He didn't glance back at me; his hands slid down to his pockets in the most casual fashion. "That's what I said her name was, and I try not to lie where clients are concerned."

"The Snow White?" It was absolutely maddening.

"Sort of."

A thousand fairy tale retellings and Disney nights rushed through my brain. "Poisoned apple, evil stepmother, glass coffin Snow White?"

"Stepmother. The apple and the sleeping thing haven't happened yet to this one."

But the fairy tale had happened forever ago. And this one? "What do you mean?"

He sighed but did not stop walking. "Chronological events are part of it. I believe I mentioned those earlier. There is also the minor detail that we are somewhat in a different universe than ours--not quite, but close--and events flow as they will. We simply step in when we are needed."

"So she hasn't eaten the apple yet? The corset? The comb?"

"No apple. The others... maybe, I'll have to check my files. But then again, there our countless episodes of Snow White... I'm just assigning you to work with this one and get her a prince before she drives us all mad."

I still couldn't accept this. "She's Snow White?"

"Yes." We arrived at the other door, an eerie thing poking right out of a trunk. "She is Snow White. The Snow White you've always heard of. And you are going to be working with her, among other girls. You will be working for Snow White. Can you accept that?"

He had to be mad. He had to be absolutely mad. And yet... it's amazing what you will accept when it actually happens. My mind was still rushing. It was probably the fact that I couldn't clearly think that made me answer yes.

"Good. Let's get you started in training. I'll let you have a lunch break at noon."

Lunch. Good. I stepped back into the salon. It no longer looked quite so nice. Too much... too much... I had no idea too much of what.

I was going to be Biggie Sizing today.

* * *

I don't even remember the rest of that so-called Day of Training. More like rampant chaos, in my view, all dictated by a firm hand from Mr. Maser. My Mad Boss.

But there had to be actual training in there somewhere. I slid into that booth at Wendy's at noon, wrist aching and mind feeding through fact after fact after fact. I had never been one to excel at memorization. Not an idiot, but I had always been something of a slow learner. I don't think I had learned any real magic with the wand. For that's what it turned out to be, a magic wand, of all things. I supposed that was okay. Working with Snow White. Why not use a magic wand? Before any real spells could be done, one had to get the art of waving a white stick. Whoop-dee-doo. No wonder my wrist hurt. I have a faint memory of the other girl, Linda, pulling the stick--wand--from my hand and demonstrating the delicate whirls of a ribbon dancer before shoving back to me and demanding I repeat down to the breath what she had just done.

Then there was the paperwork. Oh, the paperwork. Not too much, I was thinking. Just filling out a book of who I worked with today and what I had done to them--with them, for them. An appointment book, just like at Monica's. That was good. That was okay. I think they even showed me my appointment book. Blue. Pretty. I'd have to get some stickers for it, of course.

And among all of that was the talk of the girls. Girls like Snow White. The Fairy Tales girls. It was too much for a Monday. Maybe if I had started on a Wednesday or a Thursday... But Mondays weren't meant for this. And the moment Mr. Maser set the platter of hamburger and fries in front of me I chowed right in.

He blinked and leaned back, fingers barely sliding over the wrapper of his Spicy Chicken Sandwich to open it. I wouldn't have imagined him a Spicy Chicken fan. First day on the job and I was learning more about my boss than I ever wanted to know. "Guess you were hungry, Miss Bryner."

I jammed a dozen fries into the container of ketchup and shoved them into my mouth. "I thought you were going to call me Tansy. And yes, I am hungry! Food is real! Not that... that Snow White girl."

"Oh, she's real enough." He took a large bite from his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. "But I do imagine how it seems to you."

"Seems to me?" Another dozen fries. I would need more ketchup if I kept this up. And more fries. "I grew up in a podunk town, Mr. Maser. We had the most psychotic urban legends anyone could ever ask for! But nothing like this!"

"The world is full of the unreal, Tansy. Yes, that is easier to say than Miss Bryner. "And I do expect you to be the professional I hired to deal with this."

"Professional? I was trained as a beautician!" My voice raised to a peak to drag the attention in of three old ladies, a dating couple, and a bunch of teenagers sluffing out on lunchtime at the high school. "Not... not..."

"A fairy godmother?" he whispered. "Please, keep your voice down. I do have a reputation to protect."

I didn't. I leaped to my feet, threw a french fry onto his tray, and shouted "This man is certified insane!"

One of the teenagers clapped, and the restaurant returned to its normal bustle of grease in an obvious declaration of ignoring me.

How humiliating. I slunk back onto the bench.

"So tell me about your town," Mr. Maser said. Utterly calm. "Where did you grow up?"

He actually wanted to chat. Not bad for a boss who had shunned me immediately. "Green Trail."

"That's west of here, isn't it."

I nodded. "I moved here with some friends after high school. Thought I'd try my hand at college. Didn't work out so hot."

"Not one for a real education, are you? Not one to get out there and change the world."

I almost suspected he was making fun of me. Almost. Except he said the statement as a fact. It fit him well. Boring and old and gaining weight. Why couldn't he throw around facts?

I opened my Junior Bacon Cheeseburger. "I'll have you know that studying to be a beautician is indeed a real education! Just because I never had to write a master's thesis doesn't mean I didn't learn anything from there." A master's thesis. That might just be fun to write. A beautician with a master's.

He nodded, completely understanding. "And I suppose someone has to do the hair and make-up."

"Isn't that why you hired me?"

"Yes, I suppose that is why. And you did come with excellent qualifications from Monica. I met her once. Fine lady, good school she's running."

I half-wondered if they were dating. "So... what provoked you to open up a..." I could barely think the word. "This place?"

He took another bite of his sandwich.

I didn't understand. It didn't seem to be something not talking about. Unless it was a secret, of course.

"It's an incredibly long story," he finally replied. There was a piece of lettuce stuck between his teeth. I kept back a smile--for a full three seconds. "I'll tell you another time."

"But we have all of lunch."

"Which ends in ten minutes. It's not enough time."

"Sure it is." To at least floss.

"I already did the good deed of buying my new fairy godmother disgusting fast food. Is there a reason, Miss Tansy, you are smiling like that?"

I shook my head and, giggling, finished my lunch.


	4. Linda and Pearl

Often there is little explanation for the way the human mind bounces back. Or perhaps I should say that there is little explanation for the way the human mind accepts the normalcy of a mental institution. Because after lunch, I was back in the Headquarters of Fairy Godmothers. I marched through that door, waved and smiled to Mary before hopping up onto her desk, ready for a chat.

I don't think anyone had done that in the office before, but Mary only stared a second before clearing her throat and returning the smile. "So... you like the place?"

I gave one of the practically computerized nods that still stuck with me into the realms of shock. "Yes. After careful consideration, I have decided that I'm perfectly okay with this job. Oh, yes. It's great and it's wonderful and by golly, it's interesting!"

Another stare, longer than before. "Did you just say 'by golly'?"

"That I did!" I laughed, probably sounding like a crazy person. Which I evidently was. This was all crazy, and I was okay with it. I wasn't sure what other choice I had in the matter. "I felt it was a time for a good old-fashioned 'by golly'." I reached into my purse and pulled out an emery board. My special one. Yellow with pink lemons. I liked to file nails when I was nervous or freaked. But I wasn't nervous or freaked. I was dealing with this, wasn't I?

I was probably freaked I was accepting this.

Mary continued to watch me, no doubt bewildered that the new employee––the new fairy godmother––was perched on her desk. "Is... is there anything I can do for you?" It was like listening to a mouse.

I shook my head. "I'm fine. I really do like this job. It's definitely one that's interesting. I mean, it has to be fascinating enough just doing the secretarial assistant stuff. Is it? I mean, how long have you worked here?"

A casual question, I had thought, but a slow blush spilled its way over Mary's face, and her eyes dropped. There was no smile.

I hopped from the desk, taken back. "Mary, are you all right?"

She slowly nodded, and her head lifted. She might have spoken a reply if I hadn't been grabbed just then.

"Tansy Bryner, right? Excellent. Though I should know that, after our training this morning. But I'm prone to be forgetful like that; you'll get used to it, I promise. Come with me." And the mysterious voice dragged me away from Mary and down the hall.

I twisted my head, desperate for a look at my attacker. Linda. My trainer of that morning. Though admittedly I hadn't gotten much of an experience with her, what with the terror of the morning. She was awfully pretty, either late twenties or early thirties. Her dark brown hair hung in think waves at her shoulders. Her pink dress clung to her waist, and for the first time I realized she was pregnant.

"We're not done with training?" I asked.

"You're going to watch me in action," Linda replied. "And we have to start quick because my husband is probably going to have to work a bit later than intended, and someone has to pick up the twins from kindergarten. So I asked Mr. Maser if I could leave early, and he said yes, but it's my appointment and you're going to observe it, and then we can both be out of here!"

She dragged me into the Salon, as I was beginning to think of it, and made her way over to a new door, something smaller, different from Snow White's. For one thing, it was round, a circle barely touching the floor. A ring of seashells decorated the circumference, giving out a distinct aroma of fish.

"Get ready to meet Pearl," Linda said with much less enthusiasm and she opened the door.

One second later I was drenched. I had no time to see the wave of heavy seawater that leapt through the door onto me. I screamed and shoved water from my eyes. The water was cold and stinky and gross and... and I think there was something clinging to my arm.

Linda stood there, hand on the door, even more soaked than I was. Her face was frozen in an expression of neutrality, mascara running down her cheeks.

"What was that?" I whispered.

"Bad day on the ocean. Sorry about that."

I needed a hair dryer. I needed a hair dryer now. We had to stop and fix ourselves up before we stepped through that door. There was no other way. I felt the filthy water draining into my skin.

Except that Linda was already going through. "Follow me."

She had to be joking.

She poked her head through, waves gone from her hair. "You'll probably get much wetter. Just come on."

But I looked horrible.

"Come on," Linda repeated.

At least the water had convinced me I wasn't dreaming.

The door led to a stretch of rocky beach. No, hardly beach, more like a rock just stuck there. Linda was balanced precariously on it, on her knees to protect her belly, pink gauze flying every which way. Water leapt everywhere. The sky was faintly grey. I slowly leaned next to her.

"Pearl!" she called loudly in the same voice she had used to drag me off. "Pearl!"

I didn't ask for whom she was calling. I had a sick feeling that I already knew.

And then she came, popping out onto the surface with even more fountains of water. "Hi! Did we have an appointment?"

A mermaid. Why wasn't I surprised?

Linda sighed, the patient sort of laugh usually reserved for children. "Yes, Pearl. We have an appointment."

Pearl giggled and used a hand to whip back a soaking mess of greeny-blue hair. The stuff was everywhere. Was this not Rapunzel instead? "Sorry. But at least I was nearby. Because I thought we had an appointment but I wasn't too sure."

"Good."

For a moment there was silence.

Then Pearl finally noticed me. "Hi! You're not a mermaid."

"No, I'm not," I said. There wasn't much else to say.

She studied me a moment, then shrugged. "Oh. Then have you met Linda? This is my fairy godmother, Linda. Linda, this is..." She didn't know my name.

"Tansy Bryner," Linda said sharply. The child-patient mother was gone. "She works with me, you don't know her. But now you do. I'm training her. She's a new fairy godmother."

Pearl stared a moment, then nodded. "Oh! Okay, Tansy! That's a pretty name! Tansy, this is Linda. Linda, this is Tansy."

Linda and I exchanged looks.

"She's not very bright," Linda whispered. "Good thing she has the looks." She pasted on a smile and turned to Pearl, who still clung to the rock, her body bouncing up and down in the waves, smiling like an idiot.

Yes, she was quite lovely. Even with the hair. Though I supposed it had an 80's punk look to it.

"So, Pearl," Linda said sweetly. "Have you been using that conditioner?"

The only answer then was another wave that nearly knocked the two of us off the rock. Good thing we were kneeling.

Linda swore.

"Conditioner?" Pearl asked. She hadn't noticed the wave.

"The stuff I gave you last week, dear." Linda was no longer smiling.

I tried not to laugh. Didn't work.

And another wave came.

"Oh! The stuff in the bottle!" Pearl giggled again. It was getting annoying.

Like we cared while we were clinging to a rock in the middle of the ocean.

"Yes! The stuff in the bottle!"

"I gave that to my sister for her coral necklace. See?"

She wasn't wearing a necklace.

"Beautiful," I said. "You have excellent taste."

"Thanks!" She whipped her tail over the surface, spraying me. Not that it mattered anymore.

Linda touched my shoulder. "Let's get out of here. I can pick my kids up early and take them to McDonald's. Pearl, let's reschedule. I'll bring more conditioner. Do you mind that?"

Pearl shook her head as she stroked her invisible necklace.

We stepped back into the Salon, lakes following each step we made.

"And that's a normal day with Pearl!"" Linda announced as she wrung out her hair. "I hope you have seen me in action. If Maser asks, say we examined how the new conditioner is improving the structure of her hair and is keeping it from drying out from the salt––though with her home I doubt we will ever see it dry. And we also have her some scale lotion for her tail. Got it?"

Worked for me. I decided I liked Linda. "Got it."

She twisted her hands around her hair and wrung it out. Water drizzled over her dress, along with a small piece of seaweed. "Ah, well. Back into my sweats. I love being pregnant. I can wear whatever I want. I'll shower later. My husband won't care."

"Does your husband know what you do?"

She nodded. "Of course he does. Though we tell the neighbors I just do make-up for the news teams. Corey... he's in marketing."

"How normal."

She grabbed a towel from the closet and wrapped it around her head. "I know. Isn't it great? I mean, this fairy godmother thing is a great mom job––makes some play money that we can always use. I'll probably quit when this one pops out. Well, you can leave now, though I suggest you take advantage of the Salon right now and get yourself fixed up. You look––"

"A mess," we said together.

The Salon was incredible. I even found a shower in the back. After sampling every little beauty good kept around, I came out into the hall feeling and looking so much better.

The place seemed to be in the middle of closing. I would just say Linda and I took forever. But half the lights were off, and Mary has cramming some things in a brown leather purse, talking to some boy.

Ooh. So Mary did have a guy.

Except, as I drew closer, they didn't seem to be flirting. No kisses, no winks, no smiles.

And then the guy turned away from the desk and started in my direction.

I gasped. He was gorgeous. Tall, very tall, and nice and thick where it was good and comfy on a guy. Sort of that tough teddy bear look––I had always found that appealing. And a red-head. Few guys could pull of red-hair. But it worked very well on him.

He finally noticed me and stopped. "Hi."

Good thing I had fixed myself up. I turned on the charm and stepped closer. "Hi yourself. I''m Tansy Bryner."

"I know." The smile was returned. It was great smile. "Miss Cromwell over there just told me. So how was your first day?"

"Wonderful. I really like this place."

"Glad to hear it. Hope it stays up. I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm really in a hurry. We must catch up when I stop in next." And then he stepped around me and continued down the hall.

I stood where I was, confused. He hadn't exactly been rude or offish, or even overly polite. Not rude at all. Just... I wasn't sure. It was an odd sort of reply for a first meeting.

"Don't mind him," Mary called. She was pulling on her coat. Black. She didn't look good in black.

"Who is he?"

"A Maser. Mr. Maser's son, in fact."


	5. Michael

"I want details, my friend. Details!"

I gave a half-smile as the message from Kendra continued, no doubt sprung from her flip phone during the middle of a session of a client. If she could call what she did in terms of sessions. I only hoped the voice rising from the blinking answering machine was not in reference to a boy.

Like Maser's son. It was infuriating, memories of that moment. Why hadn't I turned on full-flirting charm? Why hadn't I moved in closer and given him a whiff of the lotion I had stolen from the Salon?

"It's your first beautician job, dearest. At a fancy secretive place! You aren't working for the FBI or the CIA or another one of those fancy places with the letter doohickies, are you?"

"Not here to answer, Kendra," I sang, though I had no doubt she'd be over later, demanding some late-night shopping. Though now that I had a decent and real paycheck coming in, a good ol' shopping spree wouldn't be such a bad idea. Just do the hair of a few Disney Princesses and...

I didn't hear the rest of Kendra's message. I was going off the deep end. I was officially thinking all of this _casually._

I needed a pet. That was it. I needed a cat to talk to. A feline companion, or perhaps even canine, that would make me seem all the more crazier.

It had never been like this back home. I sighed and flopped onto the couch. _Smallville._ Tom Welling reruns would be on soon. A pathetically small town to remind me of home and the high school out of which I had barely scraped. Only girls like that wound up as beauticians to the insane.

No television. It was too depressing. I forced myself up and into the bathroom. At least I still looked adorable. A pretty girl in her twenties with her life ahead of her. I still had it made.

And I had a job that apparently I was okay with.

Oh, boy. Kendra would have to hear about this. I expected her to drop by at any moment.

And then the knock came.

Speak of the devil. "Be there in a minute!" I added a touch of hair spray and sprang from the bathroom. "Kendra, you have to hear about--" I opened the door.

It wasn't Kendra. It was Michael, all tall and tanned and still dressed like he had just come from his shop. Outdoor spots equipment is what he sold. I had dated a guy like that. He was handsome, though. German last name and German blue eyes, but he had a paternal grandmother straight from Japan, and those sexy Asian genes were still around. An attractive mix, to say the least.

My heart pounded. I couldn't give in. He wanted the iPod back. It was the only explanation.

"Did you get my gift?" he asked. His voice made me ill.

The chocolates had been tasty. "Yes, and it was very sweet. Thanks and goodbye." I tried to slam the door, but his foot was in the way.

"Tansy, I really want to talk."

He smelled like Off.

"I can't talk," I replied. "I have... I need to get ready for work tomorrow."

"So you finally found a job." He pushed past me into the room. "Well, it will only take five minutes. I promise."

It wasn't like he had ever been horrible. I took a deep breath and shut the door. The room seemed to spin. "Five minutes. Fine."

The couch hovered behind him, practically asking him to sit down since the lady of the apartment apparently wouldn't, but Michael just stood there. "Tansy, I miss you so much."

I wasn't going to give him anything. I couldn't. I would stand by the door, cold and unfeeling, no flirtatious winks or smiles, nothing that would give him the deluded permission to hug me or kiss me or think he could return to my life.

"I can't stop thinking about you. I smell you everywhere. I see you everywhere."

Great. Michael had become a first-class obsessive since the break-up. "I'm not returning the iPod."

Then he laughed. "Oh. Okay then. You caught me. I guess I should just leave, if I can't have that back."

I coughed. That was really it? "Hang on, bud. So you didn't really miss me?"

He shrugged.

I screamed.

He laughed again.

"You are impossible!" I shouted.

"Hey, I just want my music."

"You send me flowers and chocolates for _music_?" The living room had become a lot smaller, so it was with incredible ease I marched over and shoved him out the door. "Idiot."

He stumbled willingly into the hall, still grinning madly. Would he never grow up? Was that too much to ask for? "So, Tansy, this is it?"

"Yes!"

"So my iPod has been given to someone else? Another man?"

"Yes." And I tossed out the first name that came into mind. "Rowan Maser, Junior." Probably should have added a fake middle name.

Michael only laughed again. I slammed the door twice.


	6. Mayblossom & Snow White

I skipped in the next morning as if it were actually going to be a normal day at a normal job. Everyone has days like those, usually the majority of their days, so why should I be any different? After all, by the time Kendra and I had finished our game of phone tag in a conversation of authentic communication all ability to tell my best friend of what, exactly, my new job entailed had disappeared. I had made up some crap about prissy office dwellers desperate for a good look; she could understand that. Then we had cut to the meat of the discussion: Michael's return. Kendra, at least could understand me; only a pig in a man's body could actually attempt to rescue our relationship over something as pathetic as an iPod.

And of course I had brought up Mr. Maser's son. What sort of girl would I be if I failed to do such a thing? One manner of contemporary womanhood that continually drove me crazy was the increasing need for independence and freedom from a healthy relationship with a good male. Let's face it, folks, junior high gossip shall never leave us, alone with the fourth-grade habit of passing love notes. Priceless. Kendra didn't even mind that my conversation with the boy had not lasted longer than thirty seconds.

"Tansy, you're hot, you're sexy, and you finally have a career. Of course you are scaring them into silence."

Besides, why wouldn't Mr. Maser's son hang around the office a little more than he was? It was mean not to spend time with one's father. Certainly the boy had more manners than that.

Then again, maybe it was me. I hadn't come out as high school royalty for nothing, and small-town glory didn't hold much to that. But it had been as real as anything Green Trail could produce. It wasn't my fault or the high school's that everyone listened to a British brat demonstrate what we should not wear.

I couldn't believe my own thoughts. Not the thoughts that ran through one's head as one sang Madonna oldies under her breath while dashing into work. What was I thinking, though? I was Tansy Bryner, and I had managed my way through plenty of boyfriends. Mr. Maser's son could easily be my next conquest. Unless his stuffed shirt father had some policy against his fairy godmothers dating his son.

But I didn't care. That new determination pushed itself out as a smile as I flung open the door, ready for another day of fairy godmother labor.

Mary just hung up the phone as I walked in. The Bic pen in her hand wobbled as she jotted down whatever information had just been revealed to her. To my surprise, she had actually attempted something of a hippy-girl braid down the side of her head. Cute, quite honestly.

"Hello, dearest!" I sang.

If that didn't get Mary staring at me. "Hi, Tansy. Um, I… " She lifted two stacks of papers, eyes peering through the edges of her desk. "I had a message from Mr. Maser. You're doing the whole thing today, though Linda should be keeping an eye on you. If you have your appointment book…"

I froze at the corner, just in front of a pretty framed picture of a stone well. "Appointment book? No one has made any appointments with me… unless they make them all through you…" It wasn't until I finished speaking that I remembered exactly what business I was now in.

"Did you leave it in the Salon?"

Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. I flashed another smile. "Yes, that's where it is."

Mary's smile was that of the saved sacrifice. "Good! Well, good luck!"

"Thanks!" I waved to her, and ran at full speed toward the Salon.

Four girls, including Linda, were already in place, chatting wildly to each other and their clients. The clients were hardly the sorts of girls you would see wandering the streets. Unless, of course, there was a theatre or a LARPing group around. For a moment all I could do was stare. Besides the dresses, there was a quality about the girls that I just couldn't put my finger on. A quality that just screamed "I am a storybook princess!"

And here I was, right in the middle of it, accepting it. A little laugh burst silently through me. I had a secret. I had a super-cool secret.

It was then I decided that not even Kendra was going to know about this.

"Tansy!" Linda called. She was bent over a red-haired girl and wielded both her magic wand and a teasing comb. "You returned once more!"

I shrugged. "Hey, I'm being paid for this, aren't I? Why not come?"

Linda and the other… fairy godmothers laughed. Great. I just might be one of the crowd.

"Out of curiosity," I said, leaning against the wall. "What would happen if I failed to show up?"

An Asian-American fairy godmother with the most adorable curls I had ever seen shrugged. She was waxing the eyebrows of her princess. "I think Mr. Maser erases your memory or something."

Well, that wouldn't be a complete loss, would it?

"I'm Alexis," she continued. "I'm doing this to get my husband through med school, but it's totally fun so I'll probably stay at it for awhile. You left your appointment book here yesterday, so Jennifer stuck it by your station. She's not here, but that's Veronica and that's Brittany." She gestured at an empty chair that was already occupied by a lovely princess. "Your first appointment, Princess Mayblossom, forgot her appointment was in five ten minutes and unluckily showed up an hour ago."

I felt a twinge of embarrassment that I quickly forced away with the reality that it wasn't my fault. I had been here on time.

"Good luck," Linda called.

Then, for some reason, everyone laughed.

Unsure of what the joke was, I turned, beaming, to Princess Mayblossom. Mayblossom. What sort of name was that? But the girl was pretty, awfully pretty. Cute and small, with the perfect, flowing, golden-blonde hair and these big brown eyes… yeah, she was a princess all right. She smiled back at me, rather shyly, and daintily curled her fingers over the arm rest.

There was a snap, and the cushion fell to the floor.

"Oops," she murmured.

Great. Apparently I had been given the bad station. I kept up the smile, scooped up the cushion, and shoved it back on the arm rest.

"Sorry about that," Mayblossom said softly.

"Hey, honey, it's not your fault. Just dumpy material here. Anywho, I'm Tansy, and I guess I'll be your fairy godmother today." Man, but that was fun to say! This wouldn't be too bad at all!

"Princess Mayblossom," she said, then leaned out to shake my hand—only to scream as her hair tangled in the back metal bars of the chair.

I had been given the really, really bad station. I quickly fled to free her from the random knot. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yes, yes, I'll be fine. Don't worry, this happens all the time, and it's not your lovely chair."

Aw… one of the poor girls with no self-confidence. And she was too pretty for that. "It's not your fault!"

"Well, maybe it isn't. But it still happens, so don't worry."

Okay… "All right, I'll just prevent you from dying if that danger occurs. What am I doing for you today?"

She paused to think. "My sixteenth birthday is today…"

Yay! "Happy birthday!" I exclaimed. "Oh, now I have to make this super-special…"

Mayblossom laughed, the tinkling laugh I would have expected of a princess. "Thank-you, that would be wonderful! I just want to look nice for the celebration."

"And you will, dear. And you will. I haven't done a birthday makeover in so many months. We'll just start with a shampoo…" I proceeded to pull out the necessary shampoo and conditioner bottles, then lean back Mayblossom's chair to the sink. Then I turned on the water, made sure it was the right temperature and…

The water shot out at the oddest angle only a crazy plumber could create, hitting Mayblossom square in the eyes. This time I screamed, quickly shutting off the water.

Linda almost choked with laughter.

And that's when it hit me. This was not my fault, nor Mayblossom's, nor the equipment. This was an evil prank against me.

For crying out loud, I was being initiated. I was being hazed.

I quickly found a towel for Mayblossom, who protested the whole while that she was fine. And I kept up the charade for the other girls.

And I decided that Mayblossom was going to walk out of here looking more gorgeous than she had ever looked in her pretty little life. I didn't care how entertaining it would be for the rest of them.

The second time, the water came out fine, as water should come from a magical tap (I assumed it was somewhat magical). I soaked Mayblossom's hair, and I squeezed the shampoo onto my hand. I had never heard of the brand before in all my schooling, but it smelt professional! Any layman can smell the difference between store shampoo and the kind that requires a license, and this did require a license! I lathered it into her hair and began the scrubbing. Use the fingertips, get the scalp.

I didn't get very far. About thirty seconds in, Mayblossom's hair turned purple.

But it was shampoo! I checked the bottle, heart pounding against my ribs. Shampoo! It could be nothing but shampoo!

I gritted my teeth and kept going. She was going to pull off the purple hair, darn it!

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

I couldn't lie to a princess. "Um, my shampoo just turned purple."

She gave a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a laugh. "Oh, of course. I forgot to warn you. One of your fairy godmothers once figured out that there are about two dozen…keema-kells, I think you call them, that my hair cannot handle. But that's okay. I've had purple hair before, and I like it. It goes away in a few months."

"Good, because I think this shade will look fantastic on you."

Alexis' princess doubled over away from the curling iron.

Even the princesses were in on this.

I was afraid to turn on the hairdryer. I didn't want to electrocute the girl. Her hair tangled around my thinning scissors.

But, by some miracle of heaven and hair products, two hours, a broken brush, and many bruises on Mayblossom's part lead to one hot chick. Her purple hair was volumized and textured and her make-up was on. I stared at her, smiling inwardly and out, feeling like a mother hen or the guy who painted that church ceiling in Europe. She looked fantastic.

She laughed and clapped her hands when she saw herself in the mirror. I relished that. It was the sort of victorious moment of _Miss Congeniality_ make-over of which every beautician dreamed. I could have wept. She wept for me, though—apparently the mascara was getting in her eyes somehow. "I love it, Tansy! This is the finest shade of purple I have yet had! I feel… wild."

Purple hair tends to create that wild feeling. "So, Birthday Girl, are you going to do anything with this?"

She giggled, properly putting her hand to her mouth as she did so—frankly, the tea party stuff was getting on my nerves, but hey. "Well, the prince whom my parents wish me to marry is sending over his very handsome ambassador for the celebration tonight…"

Ah, a conflict of romantic interest. I couldn't help but smile. "Mayblossom, are you really going to do as your parents tell me?"

"Probably not."

"Well, then, if you like this ambassador more than the prince, go for him." Was I allowed to give out advice? As a beautician, I could. And certainly the fairy godmother thing required me to do more to get a princess her prince… or ambassador. "If the prince can't show his own face, he's probably ugly."

"I thought of that, too." She giggled again, stood up, and promptly fell back into the chair as her foot caught on the lever. "Ouch."

She only slipped once on her way back to her door, and I was going to consider that a success. It was my first real appointment, by myself, and I had succeeded! I turned to the other girls, smiling proudly.

Brittany immediately set into applause while Veronica and Alexis screamed "You did it!" Their princesses were too busy laughing.

I forced my grin to slide back into something a little more demure and fixed the butterfly barrette that was securing my left pigtail. "Like I don't see an initiation when it's in front of me. Come on, that was all too obvious."

"Told you she was a quick one," said Linda dryly as she yanked the curlers from her princess' hair. "Great job, Tansy."

"And she was such a good actress, too." I made my way back to my station to start cleaning up. Even the cleaners smelled nice. This was my kind of place.

"Actress?" Veronica echoed.

I didn't think she sounded fake. I paused mid-wipe. "Huh?"

And that was when they all busted up laughing.

"Tansy," Linda finally said as breath reached her—not attractive, her pretty brown waves were stuck in her lip gloss. "Tansy, you were right. We gave you Princess Mayblossom on purpose. But she wasn't acting."

"When Princess Mayblossom was born," Brittany said matter-of-factly, "A wicked witch cursed her with unluckiness."

"She's a walking disaster," chimed in Linda's princess. "My entire kingdom knows about her."

"By the way," Linda said, "Wrong advice you gave her. Most wrong advice."

No. I didn't want to give the wrong advice! Guilt and anger hit me. "I did?"

"It's all right," Alexis said. "There was nothing you could do. Hint, the unluckiness. We won't say anymore."

This was excellent. I had been given Princess Bad Luck and had told her to do something stupid. I suddenly felt like crying. I quickly turned away and opened my appointment book. That would cover the red eyes, and hopefully the tears wouldn't really come.

Thank goodness the shock of my next appointment took those away.

With a gasp I slammed the book shut, certainly crumpling a few papers, just as the door Mr. Maser had taken me through opened.

There was Snow White, dressed in a stunning yellow gown and a scowl over her face.

I will always swear a chill descended over the room.

"My hair isn't soft enough," she spouted, dragging her trailing gown over to the chair. "Mr. Maser said I could make an appointment whenever I want to. I'm here. It is wonderful to see you again… Tansy." She didn't sound happy to see me.

Yeah, well, she was probably in a bad mood. I thought of her story, being forced out into the woods by her evil stepmother. I would have hated that as well. So I slammed on a smile. "So you just want a deep conditioning?"

"If that is what you call it. And you should hurry, because those dwarves left that house a mess."

I had never liked moody people. I quickly fetched the conditioning supplies. Ooh, apple. How appropriate. Well, twenty minutes, tops, and I she would be gone.

I smoothed the conditioner into her hair. Her hair wasn't soft enough, my butt. The girl had the hair of a commercial. But if she wanted it, she would get it. That was my job. She closed her eyes as I wringed the conditioner through, her lashes like tufts of black grass against her pale skin. The fairest in the land. "So, Snow White, how have you been?"

"Please don't talk to me."

Mayblossom had at least given me some chatter. I had never had a client that refused to talk. Linda caught my eye and made a gagging face. I chuckled.

Snow White opened one eye. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No." Touchy. "Why would I make fun of you?"

She closed her eyes, but her plan to not speak changed. "People who aren't beautiful like to mock those who are."

She had not just insulted me! "Huh?"

"How did you become a fairy godmother, Tansy? You aren't beautiful."

Automatically I glanced at the mirror. There I was, as cute as a button. She had to be kidding me. It took all I had to not reply. I think that pleased her, because her perfect red lips slid into a smile.

Twenty minutes later, as I had planned, Snow White was ready to go. I finished combing her hair into place and smiled. "There. Look at you, Miss Beauty."

She sighed. "Tansy?"

"Yes?" I maintained the smile, though there was a sudden desire to reach for a poisoned comb.

"I have had fairy godmothers try to befriend me before. I don't like it. Don't try it."

I was very happy to see her go.

"Ignore her," Brittany said once Snow White's door was closed. "That's all you can do. Obey her snotty wishes, then ignore her."

"Thank-you." I leaned against the counter, staring into the mirror, deciding I did not like Snow White one bit. What kind of creep said such things? What had happened to the pretty girl that hung out with the woodland creatures? Not that I like them myself… I flipped my book back open. It was… empty.

"I'm done?" I asked, looking up. That was pretty hard to believe.

Linda shook her head just enough to keep her in focus with the pencil weave she was doing. "Uh-huh. Maser's taking you out on something."

"Exactly."

I hadn't heard the door open, and apparently neither had the other girls. But there was Mr. Maser, standing there, smiling. Today he had opted for a more casual look, pathetically casual—jeans and an orange plaid shirt. I think he was going for the average, rural man. It wasn't half-bad.

"You see, Tansy," he continued, stepping toward me. "A great deal of our service takes us outside of the Salon. Think of it as field work."

Was this supposed to be new? "Like what I did with Snow White and Pearl?"

The smile vanished. "Yes, like that."

Well, his smile was gone, so I made my own. "Which princess is it this time?"

"A good, basic princess. A Cinderella."


	7. Cinderella

It was with only a few hurried sentences from Mr. Maser and Linda that I was shoved through a door that led to yet another lovely wood—if you were the outdoorsy sort of girl that I was never going to be. At least it wasn't as nature-nature as Snow White's forest. It suddenly hit me how many creepy-crawlies had been around that night. I was glad I had showered. This wood was almost clean. The trees were small, delicate, and green. Plus, the sun was up. A sunny day could make a lot of difference in a magical world. The path was clear and fairly straight.

I clutched my make-up bag closer to my body and gave a sigh. This was intense, yes it was. My first door, all by myself. Mr. Maser had said that my Cinderella's house would be "as clear as day" or some other cute little metaphor like that. I wasn't seeing anything, though. Wonderful. I was lost in an enchanted forest. I was going to die out here, and no one would know.

How was any of this possible, anyway? Magic, that was the answer. I could see all those girls in the Salon with all the half-way normal stuff. But how did magic work?

I was going to get a headache. Well, there was a path, and paths tended to lead to places, so I marched on. Sure enough and soon enough a large house appeared in the distance.

Oh, yes. Cinderella did live in a big house, even though she was nothing but a servant.

What had Mr. Maser meant when he had said "a" Cinderella? Was I working with the Cinderella or not?

The trees gave way, and I found myself in a rather charming countryside place-a-ma-bob that could have been straight out of that old _Pride and Prejudice_ movie. Only not so technology-advanced, or whatever. I wasn't sure how to explain it. But there it was, cute little green place with a big, gorgeous house.

I smiled to myself as I approached said big and gorgeous house. I liked this place. I really liked it.

And now what was I supposed to do? Just march up to the house? Heck, why not? Neither Mr. Maser nor Linda had given me any instructions like that. Besides, the other girls weren't too surprised to see a contemporary woman.

So I marched up to the door and knocked. Since Cinderella was supposed to be the servant, she would probably answer the door.

The door opened quickly and there stood the girl I knew had to be Cinderella. She stared at me with huge brown eyes. I liked it immediately. A classic country beauty, minus the freckles. Her hair was pulled back, but I could see it anyway: brown, thick, and wavy. It even shone. Her lips were a full pout; I couldn't wait to get some lipstick on them. They would show color, oh yes. "Hello. Can I help you?" Her voice was darling.

I grinned and extended Cinderella my hand. "Hi! I'm Tansy Bryner, the fairy godmother." Dang, but that was awesome to say! "You must be Cinderella."

"Oh, you mean Cinder?"

Kind of a funky nickname, but Cinderella was a bit much, when you thought about it. I shrugged. "Cinder, then. I like that better than Cinderella. Pleasure to meet you."

Cinder laughed and shook her head. "I'm not her. I'm Lucille. Lady Tara's niece. I'm visiting and thought it would be fun to play servant."

I stared. Awkward. "You're not Cinderella?"

"Nah, but she's here. Actually, she's out back, by the stables. She hated working in the house, so Lady Tara sent her out to work with the horses."

This wasn't my Cinderella. I forced my smile. "Could you please show me?"

The stables weren't exactly tiny; that made them a heck of a lot easier to find. But they were so… horsy. I didn't want to think about in what I could be stepping. I tip-toed my way over the ground and peered into the stable. "Hello? Cinder?" My voice echoed. I had vague memories of my grandfather's stable. He had kept horses.

"Hey!"

I screamed as a form tumbled from a high loft. It was girl, by some miracle able to land on her feet.

"Sorry if I scared ya!" she said. "But you scared me. I didn't hear ya until you were down there all hollerin'. But, yeah, I'm Cinder." She stepped into the light, and it was all I could do to scream again.

I wanted Lucille. I wanted Lucille very badly. I wanted to pay her to pretend to be Cinderella for Mr. Maser.

But I didn't scream. Instead I took one of those deep healing breaths. A challenge, Tansy, I told myself. You love a challenge.

Cinder was tall, a good head taller than me. That wasn't a problem; models were tall. But she also covered from head to toe in dirt—and probably something else. Her limp hair was tied back with a piece of twine. I think it was blonde, but I honestly could not be sure. From what I could see of her face, she was sunburned and freckled. They were not the cute splash of freckles—they were everywhere. She did not wear a dress, but instead some overalls that were a little too short for her long legs. They also kept me from seeing anything of her figure.

A challenge. Yes, that was what this was. I finally found myself getting excited, and my smile was genuine. "I'm Tansy Bryner," I said. "I think I'm your fairy godmother."

Cinder's face split into a wide grin—her sparkling white teeth were almost blinding in contrast to her filthy, burned face. At least she had good teeth. I couldn't repair teeth. "Well, hey, that's awesome! Glad to hear that. I always kind of wondered when mine would show up. Y'see, my mother named me Cinder because of all the other orphaned servant girls that wind up as princesses. They all had fairy godmothers. So what exactly do you do?"

I tried to remember the semi-witty phrase Mr. Maser had used to describe the job, but I couldn't. "I make you beautiful so a handsome prince will fall in love with you and marry you."

"Sweet." Cinder nodded. "Well, this should be fun. Glad to meet you." She held out her dirty, stinky hand. I could see the dirt welled up under her fingernails, like worms.

I wanted to gag, but I managed to shake her hand. Why did girls shake hands? From where did that come?

Cinder smelled like dirt, sweat, and horses.

But I was going to make her gorgeous. It could be done. Maybe if she were cleaned up… I had to get her back to the Salon. "Cinder, I need you to come with me so we can get started."

She stared. "Don't you have a magic wand or something?"

"I do, but I still have very little idea what I'm supposed to do with it. But I can wash hair and all that. So let's go."

"Can't. Sorry. I have a lot of work to do. I mean, it's not like in the house where you can finish the necessary chores for the day and be done. I hated doing those chores. Horses are a full-time job, and I still have three I need to exercise." She grinned. "Wanna help? It's fun. I'll find ya a saddle and everything!"

I wound up leaving with only an appointment.

Mr. Maser would not be pleased.

I didn't care.


	8. Gossip Girls

Apparently it was lunch when I returned. That, or Alexis and Linda just felt like eating. Linda was sitting in one of the chairs, a Subway wrapper resting on her pregnant belly. Alexis sat cross-legged on the counter with one of those energy drinks and a Snickers. I tried to remember what I had packed for my lunch. Peanut butter. Hooray for peanut butter! Despite the awful Cinder situation, I was excited.

"You weren't gone very long," said Linda. She licked mustard from her fingers. "And Mr. Maser said he wanted you to find a Cinderella."

"Those are supposed to take you days, usually," said Alexis with a nod. "Linda, do you remember the last Cinderella I had?"

Linda nodded with way too much enthusiasm. I was beginning to think I had gotten off easy with the mess known as Cinder. "Oh, yes! I had almost forgotten about her, but who the heck can forget about a brat like that?" She looked at me pointedly and motioned me into a chair. "Tansy, you have to hear about this girl! It was like last year or something. Mr. Maser tells Alexis that he has a Cinderella for her. And this was of course after she had gotten all these nice Cinderellas—"

"Absolute sweethearts, totally darling." Alexis took another swig of too-much caffeine.

I grinned. "Girls, this is not very comforting." If only this story would turn out worse than Cinder. If only this story would turn out worse than Cinder!

"Exactly," said Linda. "Back to me. So Mr. Maser tells Alexis to go out and contact this particular Cinderella—"

"Hey! This is my story!" Alexis set down her drink and wiped a stripe of chocolate from her upper lip. "It happened to me!"

"But I tell it better, honey."

"You do not."

"Just shush."

I laughed. I was already feeling better.

"So Alexis waltz through this door. You've seen the doors. All cutesy and folklorish and crap. And she winds up in the cutest little garden you have ever laid eyes on. It looked like Minnie Mouse and Glinda the Good designed it together. Big flowers, expensive fountains, all that."

"I should have known," said Alexis.

"And she skips up to the house. Alexis skips really cute, trust me. I swear, butterflies with fluttering in the breeze around her pretty little head. Weren't they? Anyway, she goes up to the door, knocks, and the Lady of the House answers."

"Not Cinderella?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Not Cinderella."

"Ellana, as her name was," said Alexis, "Was sitting by the hearth throwing a tantrum."

I tried to imagine Cinder, or even Lucille, throwing a tantrum.

Linda took a huge bit of her sandwich; it was a good thing she had the Subway wrapper, I had forgotten how messy sandwiches are. She chewed about half of the bite, swallowed it, and proceeded to talk as best she could. "This poor woman leads Alexis into this beautiful house, to this beautiful kitchen, and there she finds Ellana in rags. And not just any rags. I bet you're thinking, Tansy, that these people had forced poor little Ellana to wear these. Nope. This was an otherwise gorgeous dress that she had obviously ruined herself."

I couldn't imagine anyone purposely ruining a dress to… well, purposely ruin it. If she had been trying to make it stylish, that was a different matter. "And it looked awful."

Alexis nodded.

Linda continued. "Turns out that Ellana was this little worm whose poor father had married this rich woman. When he died, of course the stepmom keeps the girl around, keeps her looking nice. But no! Ellana has this psychotic imaginary audience thing going on—"

"Personal fable," I interrupted.

They both stared at me.

Alexis lowered her candy bar. "Huh?"

Oops. "Personal fable," I repeated. "You know, it's what teenagers do all the time. Though I guess imaginary audience might be part of it, they are kinda connected…" They still looked completely confused. I blushed and waved my hand. "Never mind. Keep going."

"Where did you learn that?" Linda asked.

"I picked it up in college," I said quickly. "Look, I'm ruining your story."

"She already ruined it."

Linda aimed a smack at Alexis' feet. "Quiet, you. So Little Miss College gets the whole story, I'll keep going." She said Little Miss College as a joke, but I suddenly thought of it as a compliment. She finished off her sandwich, then launched right into the summary. "Ellana was trying to be Cinderella. She made herself a servant, except she was an idiot and had no idea what the difference was between a broom and a spatula. But she wanted to be the poor little enslaved girl who would be rescued by a prince."

I made a face. "Pathetic! You're kidding me! She acted like that?"

Alexis nodded. "I had that girl for four days straight, all my appointment time booked, just so she could think she looked pretty."

"And she was not an attractive little girl," said Linda.

I laughed. "That's mean to say!"

"Well, it's true! What do you want me to say, that everyone is beautiful in her own way? That's just stupid. Go outside and walk around! There are a lot of ugly people out in the world, and you cannot deny it."

Alexis almost coughed up Snickers—she had not managed to keep from laughing. "I have seen so many ugly women, and a lot of them were even uglier than Miss Ellana!"

I tried to stand up, but I had failed to keep the giggles back and thus fell back, most awkwardly, into the seat. "I can't believe I'm working here!" Was it so terrible to realize I liked both of them.

"I'm not trying to be mean!" Linda sat up in her chair, arm around her belly. "Ouch, a baby is climbing up my rib cage. I'm not saying they are bad, horrible people. I'm just saying we wouldn't have make-up and people like us if everyone were glamorous and beautiful."

I supposed she was right. I had never quite thought about it that way. "But what about those Dove commercials?"

"Advertising," Alexis said flatly. "That's all it is. It's a conspiracy to make ugly people feel that they will never be attractive and that they should be okay with that."

"If that isn't an insult to the self-esteem, I don't know what is," said Linda.

I grinned. "What was that movie line? "There is no such thing as natural beauty." Dolly Parton."

Linda laughed. "Very good! Anywho, we are way off-topic. So you now know that Alexis spent four days on a Cinderella. Tell us about yours."

It took me a moment to figure out just what to say. Cinder verses the horror story of Alexis' Ellana. "I have absolutely no idea what to do with her. No idea."

"That's what I'm here for, dear." My mentor picked various toppings from her Subway wrapper. How graceful. Wow, but I liked her.

"And I just want to hear the horror story." At least Alexis had the grace to not lick chocolate from the Snickers wrapper. Though everyone knew that was the best part.

What the heck? "I found her in the stables. She doesn't work in the house."

That caught their interest. "But Cinderellas are most always servants."

"She was. She just works outdoors. She cleans up horse poop. I don't think she showers. She has lousy grammar. Or accent. I don't know if it's her accent or grammar. What's the difference?"

"Mm." Alexis stared at the ingredients label. "Tomboy. Gotcha."

"Am I a baby if I'm whining over her?" I asked. Suddenly my problem sounded ridiculous. I was the whiney girl unable of taking care of her clients.

"Nope. No one is a baby here," said Linda. "Tomboys are impossible. Horribly impossible. Sometimes you're lucky enough to trap one in a chair for fifteen minutes to get some of those tangles shredded out and she winds up looking like a goddess."

"And then she goes and gets herself all muddy all over again. No point."

I sighed. "Does Mr. Maser like to initiate us with evil Cinderellas?"

Linda shook her head. "No, it's completely random. Half the time the man doesn't know who the heck these princesses are."

Alexis crumpled up her Snickers wrapper and hopped from the counter. "When is your appointment?"

"In two days?"

"Just pray she shows up. We can make Brittany and Jennifer go after her, if you want. They're scary. I'd suggest Linda, but she's all with child and that."

"Wouldn't we get in trouble for harassing clients?"

"Just as long as you don't pull a Mary."

I only had to look at her face to realize that she had said the wrong thing. Linda shot her a deathly glance, and the girl went silent.

The mood had just been killed.

"I take it I'm not allowed to ask about that," I said slowly.

Linda nodded slowly and apologetically. "Yeah… we really aren't supposed to gossip about things like that, anyway. It's her business."

Mary. Mary the receptionist?

At that moment the door opened, and there she was, speak of the devil. Mary. "Tansy?" she said softly.

She could obviously see me. "Right here." I waved.

"You… you have a visitor."

I stared. I had been so busy chatting that I hadn't bothered to check my appointment book.

"He says you'll know him."

I instantly felt sick. Boy, I should have grabbed that peanut butter sandwich while I had the chance. "Michael?"

Mary blushed. "That's his name?"

"Boyfriend?" Alexis whispered, hand to her mouth.

I rolled my eyes and nodded. Then I followed Mary out the door.

The boy was leaning against Mary's desk, smiling at me like we were still together. How did he even find where I worked?

"Hey, kitten," he cooed.

I marched right up to him and slapped him across the face. Not hard; a slap is more about the mood of delivery. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I would come and visit you."

Mary was right behind me, watching with a frightened frown.

I gritted my teeth and shook my head. "How did you find out where I worked?"

"I asked Kendra."

I made a mental note to kill that girl. "Did it ever occur to you that I might be working?"

"Are you working now?" Dang, but he was cute.

"Shut up."

"I also came to see your new boyfriend."

He was so impossible! "Why would he be here right now?"

He shrugged.

I sucked in a lungful of air. I was furious. I was absolutely furious. "I'm not giving you back the stupid iPod!"

"I just wanted a kiss." He was wearing a green t-shirt. It was very attractive.

"Get out." I pointed toward the door.

The biggest surprise was that he actually left.

Fuming, I turned back to Mary. "Do not, I repeat, do not let him in here again. He's my ex-boyfriend, and I'm sick of him."

Mary nodded. Her gaze was fixed on the floor. And she was blushing. Not from embarrassment.

Oh my goodness. Was it just my imagination, or did Mary also happen to find Michael cute? It was probably just my imagination.

I thought about Alexis' slip of the tongue. No, no, I couldn't. Just because I was mad at Michael didn't mean…

And then I heard it, the words coming out of my own mouth with my own voice. "Mary, how long have you worked here?"

Her blush deepened.

Oh, crap. "Mary, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

She met my eyes. "You wouldn't say you're sorry if you didn't suspect something."

It was the longest sentence I had heard from her.

And then she smiled, a tiny little thing with a surprising amount of energy. "It's okay. I guess it'll come out sometime, and you should hear it from the source."

I felt I was about to hear another long gossip session.

"Tansy, do you know the story of Sleeping Beauty?"


	9. Mary, Mary

Well, duh, of course I knew the story of Sleeping Beauty. Only people with neglected childhoods or no contact with civilization had no notion of the story. But I kept those thoughts to myself—no point in scaring Mary away. My fingers went of their own will to fiddle with my hair as I gave the very safe "Yes".

A sheepish smile flickered at her lips as she slowly walked back to her desk. Her hippie braid was tangled at her shoulder. "I shouldn't have asked you that. I mean, who has not heard of Sleeping Beauty? I mean, she's famous and… well, you know."

I nodded. "I love fairy tales."

Any hope of a smile was instantly gone as a snippy wave blasted through Mary with a roll of her eyes and a gagging expression. "Of course you do. Everybody loves fairy tales."

I suddenly, fervently, and rather randomly hoped that Mary did not have some sort of gun under her desk. "Maybe we should talk another time, Mary." I tried to picture the page in my appointment book. I might have a girl to work on…"

"You don't," she said quickly. "Not for another seventeen minutes."

"But I haven't had my lunch…"

Mary snapped her fingers, and my peanut-butter sandwich and bottle of cranberry juice appeared on her desk. My sandwich. I could even see the missing crust I had torn away on the way to work. "Here. Eat." And with that, the shy little mouse returned. "Sorry. I didn't mean to explode like that. It's just that I really feel like talking sometimes. And I think I would rather you hear the story from me."

I barely heard her. All I could see was the magically appearing sandwich. Logically, I supposed that it was peanuts (no pun intended) next to the princesses and magic wands, but Mary hadn't used a magic wand. "Dude! How did you do that?"

She shrugged. "Magic. It's pretty easy. I know where the staff fridge is."

It would have taken me thirty seconds to grab it myself. "You can do magic?"

Another shrug. "Yeah. You can do hair. It's just one of my things. I'm not that good at it."

The girl had just transported my lunch. All thought of running, screaming, away from her vanished.

"I hope I didn't scare you, Tansy."

I laughed, then. I couldn't help it. My hand went to my face, somewhat out of embarrassment, and I laughed. "No, I'm sorry. You didn't. No, you did, but I can't understand why this would be scarier than anything else."

"I'm not very good at magic," she repeated.

She was better than I was. I walked to the desk and picked up the sandwich bag. I was still hungry. "What does that have to do with Sleeping Beauty?"

"That was me." Mary was back to staring at her feet. Nothing to look at. Her shoes were ugly and brown.

I thought of the princesses I had seen already. "That was you?" Mary was hardly the traditional princess. Not quite Cinder level, but still… Oh, I hoped I wasn't being judgmental. "You are Sleeping Beauty?"

Mary actually laughed. She looked up at me and laughed. "No, but thanks! I'm the idiot that made her fall asleep for a hundred years."

I stared. Suddenly Alexis' comment made perfect sense. "You what?"

"You said you knew the story. The infant princess is cursed to die by a slighted fairy. I was there."

I wasn't sure I understood. "You… went through one of the doors in the Salon?"

She sighed. "Tansy, this was over six hundred years ago." I must have kept staring, because she continued. "You're a human. One of the many humans that Rowan Maser has gathered to do things that don't require much magic. This was before he found the doors that led into the other worlds and times. This was the original Sleeping Beauty, not one of the followers. I'm not from this world. I'm a real fairy."

My peanut butter sandwich fell to the floor, and I was only glad I had not opened my cranberry juice.

She blushed. "No, that's not true."

Good. My pulse had jump started.

"I'm actually a half-fairy."

I failed to see the difference.

Mary gestured at her chair. "I'm so sorry. There I went again. Please, sit down."

I nodded faintly and made my way around the desk to her chair, into which I gratefully sat.

"Maybe I should stop talking. I just didn't want you to hear some of the gossip. None of it's slanderous, but no one knows the facts anymore."

I took a deep breath. It was remarkably helpful. "Actually, keep going. This is…" I forced a grin, "This is pretty cool." A true emotion I had found somewhere down deep in the shock.

She bit her lip. The half-fairy bit her lip. What the heck was a half-fairy? "Are you sure?"

I nodded again. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Just… keep talking, or else I'll suffer from curiosity." The good thing was that my body was coming into balance.

She finally fixed her awkward braid. "Like I said, I was never very good at magic. I was the youngest there. This adorable baby princess. We were all giving her gifts. I still remember mine. I wanted to make sure she never suffered a bad hair day." She giggled nervously. "Kinda silly, but I…"

"I think that's a perfect gift. To never experience uncooperative hair. Wow."

Mary beamed. "That's what I thought, too. But it never happened. That crazy old lady comes in, talks about this girl stabbing herself with a spindle, of all things, and dying. Who dies of a spindle? How dumb and clumsy do you have to be to kill yourself with a spindle?"

She had a point there.

"But what else were we supposed to think? And she was a powerful fairy, she could make it happen. I panicked. I was next, and how was great hair supposed to matter when you were dead? I just wanted to stop her from dying."

"So you weakened it?" I suggested.

She shook her head. "You know how the story always reads that a fairy is incapable of breaking another's fairy's spell? So not true. But I didn't know that until it was too late. I just cast an entirely different spell. Fall asleep for a hundred years. Not a few hours, not a few years. A century. An entire century."

I guess I had read the tale so many times that the idea didn't really faze me. "But you saved her life."

Mary's hand shot to her eyes. A few tears had escaped. "Saved her life? How? She's a kid when this happens. Sixteen years old. She wakes up to find herself with a complete stranger. Everyone she knew and cared about was long dead." She sighed and paused a moment, thinking. "You know what, Tansy? That the fairy tale doesn't tell you? She had a boyfriend before all of that happened. A really sweet guy she really liked. He wound up marrying someone else because he couldn't reach his girlfriend through the greenhouse disaster I had erected. And then he died of old age, and Sleeping Beauty was still sleeping away."

Boy. I had never thought of that before. "I had no idea. Mary, I'm so sorry."

She wiped her eyes again and nodded. "No, it's okay. It was my own fault, I was stupid, and now I'm getting the punishment I deserve."

"Punishment?" I echoed. "For that?"

"No one is really happy with me," she muttered. "Besides, you started this by asking how long I've worked here. I've been with Rowan Maser since the beginning of this little operation he has going on."

I almost from the chair. "Mr. Maser's evil?"

The sadness was gone, replaced by confusion. "What? No, no, he has nothing to do with this! I just have to help people, and for the time being I have to help Mr. Maser. He didn't ask for me, and he can't release me until my time with him is up and I move on to helping someone else, or my curse is broken."

I thought momentarily of how well I was taking this. "How is your curse broken?"

She smiled sweetly, one of the original Mary smiles I remembered. "I can't say. That's part of the curse."

This was supremely awkward. "Is… is there anything I can do to help?"

She shook her head, then looked at her watch. "You really ought to be getting back soon. You have an appointment."

I took a deep breath and stood up. Well. It had been a most informative lunch break. "Okay, then. I guess I'll talk to you later."

"Sorry for being such a pain."

"You're… you're fine." You're a half-fairy.

I headed back to the Salon, wondering if this had been another example of hazing.

* * *

The remainder of my afternoon was relatively mild. My batch of princesses and servant girls were no one truly extraordinary, though one did have the most wonderfully thick hair to which I had ever set scissors and blonde highlights. Another girl let me do her nails. French manicure. They looked fantastic when I was finished. There are few things in this world more satisfying than turning a chair to the mirror and listening to a girl squeal about how gorgeous she is. One girl had asked for red streaks, thick, vibrant, and noticeable. No one could notice streaks in a pile of wet hair—not until I parted the hair. It was like a switch of opera masks in that girl.

Linda told me I did too well for a girl from a local beauty school. Did no one appreciate that Monica's was the best in the state?

The day ended. I cleaned up my area, grabbed my things, and headed out to Mary's desk.

She wasn't there. Apparently she had already left.

I frowned. I had come up with a few more questions for her… like they were ever going to return to my mind again. I sighed and set my bag on her desk. Maybe I could leave her a note.

The door opened. Crap, Mary was back and I was fishing through her stuff.

But it wasn't Mary. It was Mr. Maser's son.

And there I was, leaning over the desk with a pack of sticky notes in my hand. Most awkward. "Hi."

He stared at me. "Hi. You're… Tansy, right?"

I held up the sticky notes. "I needed these."

"I can guess that."

I quickly stepped away from the desk and straightened my outfit. "It's nice to see you again. Really nice. We didn't get much of a conversation last time, did we?" I was very glad I had just freshened up my lip gloss.

He shrugged. "No, not really. But I was running late."

"Are you running late now?" I hoped my hair was decent. "Or did you just pop in to see your dad? I think he's still in his office."

The guy blinked. He was wearing faded jeans and an old t-shirt. It was amazingly sexy. "My dad? Oh… yeah. I mean no. I just came into…"

I realized that he had no idea what he was talking about. I laughed. "Lost, are we?"

He shrugged again.

"Listen, I don't even know your name. Just that you're Mr. Maser's son."

He grinned. It was positively the most adorable thing I had ever seen. "You can just call me Rowe. I hate the whole junior thing."

"Rowe," I repeated. Not too bad. He wasn't running off yet. I decided to make my move. "You aren't busy today, are you? I mean, I'm off work, and I missed my lunch so…"

"I'm not really supposed to date the fairy godmothers," he said quickly.

Ooh. Shy. Little boy. I loved it. "It's not a date. We will simply be eating at the same table."

He seemed to consider that, then gave his third shrug. "Okay."


	10. Not a Date

It was one night to skip Wendy's. I could never let a good-looking guy see me eat fast food. I had a figure and a reputation to protect, and protect it I would. Rowe picked the place, one of those cutesy-yet-ordinary spots that served the basics. It looked like someone's country kitchen. Really adorable. The hostess seated us at this little table underneath a painting of roosters.

Sandra's Diner. That was the name of the place. Apparently Rowe liked eating at places named after vague women. Much like my fast food restaurant. I ordered a chicken salad, one that Rowe recommended. The place was full of little old couples who sneaked glances at us in fascinated curiosity. Not a soul under fifty in sight.

"I really like this place," Rowe said. "The food is really good."

It smelled good. Better than my peanut-butter sandwich. "It's all down-home-ish."

"Ish," Rowe repeated thoughtfully. "Exactly what does that suffix mean?"

I shrugged. Small talk, small talk. I was fine with small talk. "Round about, I suppose."

"It's not a real suffix."

"I like it." A little awkward, but that was the fun of first dates, was it not? Besides, I needed a challenge. "So, Rowe. Hey, that rhymed." I giggled and tossed my hair. Thank goodness for good hair. "What do you do? Are you into the fairy godmother business like your dad?"

Rowe laughed. "I hate the entire fairy godmother thing like a Biblical plague, no offense."

"But we're so pretty."

He only made a face. "Yeah. Pretty. Not my thing. Hence the dirty t-shirt."

"Ah. So you aren't one of those metrosexual guys looking for better skin than me? So what do you do? You still haven't answered my question."

Another shrug. Rowe was a rather shruggy person. "I do a little bit of everything. I guess you might call me the eternal student."

Oh, great. One of those guys continually hanging around the college campus. I remembered those guys. "And to make money?"

"My dad's rich. You wouldn't believe how much he has."

"My projected pay is crap!" The waitress setting my chicken salad before me gave a start.

"It's inherited, a lot of it," Rowe explained with a wink.

This was getting a bit more interesting. I suddenly could see dark mansions of the Victorian persuasion. "Your dad is an heir and he runs this fairy godmother thing?"

"It's kind of a long story…"

I held up my hands. "I don't even think I want to hear it. I want to eat my salad."

"How come girls always eat salads?"

Maybe I should have gone for the cheeseburger. I blushed. "Really, salads are just good." There was no way to let a girl eat what she wanted. "And they're a lot more fattening than you would think." To make a point, I tipped the honey-mustard dressing on the side all over every chunk of lettuce and chicken.

"But not as fattening as the ham-and-cheese." He picked his up and chewed happily.

"How come guys always have to eat the big stuff?" I asked.

"It's manly."

"Oh. And I suppose you do lots of manly stuff for your part time random items."

"I like to fight dragons and stuff."

My chicken paused half-way to my mouth. "Are you joking? I mean, because with your dad and everything else I've seen…"

"I'll leave you that to figure out." He looked an awful lot like his dad, I realized. Only much, much cuter. And not so bizarre. "And how did you get sucked into my father's work?"

"I got a beauty license and I saw an ad that looked a heck of a lot more interesting than that traditional beauty parlor." I should have stuck with that.

"Beauty school." Rowe rolled his eyes and took another huge bit of ham-and-cheese. "Who goes to beauty school? In the fairy tales, the fairy godmothers actually used magic."

"What if you can't use magic?" The salad really was good. "What do you do then?"

"I dunno. Can't you learn magic?"

I hadn't really thought about. I said as much. "Well, Mary is a fairy… that means she can do magic. I have a magic wand."

"Tools," Rowe said. "Magic tools created for this whole thing. I don't get it sometimes. Most of the time."

"It doesn't make any sense to me. It's like a crack dream."

Rowe suddenly laughed. "Good word to use around the elderly."

"Hey, they already think our conversation is nuts. I would love to use magic. How fun would that be?"

"How pointless. At least it's more logical than beauticians."

Ooh. A challenge. I tried to remember all I had learned from Dolly Parton and _Steel Magnolias_. But he seemed friendly enough, just on the tactless side. I gave my best glare.

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend. This is what happens every time I get involved in a conversation with the girls. You all love your beauty stuff. I still don't get it. Didn't you go to college or anything?"

He really had no tact. "I tried it for a little bit. Didn't work out."

"Ah. Not the college type?"

I set my fork down and took a swig of Coke. "I'm not one of those smart girls."

"Really?" He picked up a french fry. "You seem pretty smart. At least no dumber than anyone else."

No one had ever called me smart before. I wasn't sure what to think until I remembered the guy knew absolutely nothing about me. "Rowe, I barely graduated from high school. I tried a little college and couldn't handle that. So I went to something I knew how to do."

"So that's your talent," he said. "Being pretty."

Of course it was, though I wasn't terribly fond of how he said it. "Well, I'm good at it, aren't I? I do all my friends' hair and make-up. Everyone likes what I do."

He didn't seem impressed. "What about that whole natural beauty thing?"

Oh, goodness. The conversation earlier. "No such thing."

"Oh, come on. Are you telling me that a woman had to look like a model to be beautiful?"

"Models are beautiful." I took another bite of salad. Rowe's French fries were looking awfully tasty. "Am I supposed to deny that?"

"Uh…"

"Do you think models are beautiful?"

"I refuse to answer that question, Tansy."

I kept going. "What about ugly woman who don't have any natural beauty? Some people are just ugly. You can't help that, and I don't think they have to keep being ugly just because someone says that natural beauty is the best."

The smallest of smiles crept over his mouth. "You have a point there. Can you really make ugly people beautiful?"

I shoved Cinder from my mind. "Why not? If someone's good enough with a make-up kit, why not? You've seen all those movies. They give the girl a make-over and she is the most beautiful creature on earth and gets to go to the Prom with a jock. It's happily ever after."

"What if a woman doesn't care about beauty?"

I rolled my eyes. "Mr, Rowe Maser. We live in a world obsessed with models, as you pointed out. Besides, no matter what a girl says, every girl likes to feel pretty. And that's what I can do. Make girls feel pretty. Is there anything wrong with that?"

The smile increased. "Well, no."

"Then I guess that conversation is over."

With that Rowe laughed. I really liked his laugh. "Remind me to never argue with a beautician again."


	11. The Return of Cinder

The next day I felt ready. Readier than I had any other day of this crazy new career. I liked to think it was the not-a-date with Rowe. Oh, but he was so cute! Pity I had to release upon him some psuedo-philosophy to make my own job sound good. It was his father running the place, not me. Maybe he should complain there.

I stormed into the shop in the most pleasant way possible. It was attitude in movement, not mood. My mood was doing pretty darn good. I was going in today to conquer. Mary was at her desk, actually reading a paperback book-horror genre, by the look of things. She smiled shyly as I passed. "You went out last night?" she asked.

I could not help but stop and allow myself a girly scream-kept within sound limits of course. "Yes."

"Fun?"

"He's an odd one, but yes. Fun." I looked at her with scrutiny. "You're going to have to let me do something to your hair. Cut it or something."

She visibly squirmed. "Tansy, I work with beauticians. I have forever. Please don't come near me with a pair of scissors."

I shrugged, figuring I could always corner her later. Maybe when she was sleeping. Then I moved in to work.

The girls were getting ready for the day, the ones that had showed. Some of them looked to be in various stages of waking up, and I felt a little glow of pride that I was one of the ones who was actually ready. Here I was, ready to do something. Make people look good.

Good princesses. I wanted good princesses. Not the crazy ones.

But when I opened my schedule book, there it was for my first appointment: Cinderella.

Not just any Cinderella. Cinder.

Of course. How could I be so stupid? In the reading of a single name my morning was shot.

But it didn't have to be that way. I wasn't so naive.

Linda was giggling to herself as she looked at me. "Cinder?"

I nodded. "Do I look it? Like I have Cinder scheduled in?"

"Yes. I think you need caffeine. More caffeine than you had. You were looking pretty chipper until then." One hand resting on her baby bump she walked my way and slipped me a cube of dark chocolate. "Did you know how much caffeine dark chocolate packs?"

Whatever it was, I needed it. I unwrapped the chocolate and popped it into my mouth. Nice. She had sprung for the good stuff.

Cinder was, of course, late. Why had I expected anything else from her? I was all but ready to take Alexis' advice and call in some poor servant girl with better taste than Cinder then Cinder's door swung open and in strode the horse princess herself. If anything, she looked worse than she had the other day. Did she consider that I was going to do pure magic and clean her up? Her overalls were covered in what I didn't know. Covered as in I couldn't see any real material at all. Her hair seemed to be soaked in dust and had the appearance of a rat's nest. If it really was, I would not have been surprised. Still, she came in with all the confidence I had come to expect from her with a smile that snuck in and improved my mood all over again.

"Hey!" she said with a beam. Oh, but did she have good teeth. So unfortunate about the rest of her. "I'm so sorry I'm late. One of the mares decided to drop a foal this morning."

Jennifer dropped her straightener, nearly burning her princess.

"A foal?" I echoed.

Cinder nodded. "Yep. Cute little thing. Going to be a great racer once he's all grown and trained." Another big, beaming smile. "So. Where do I sit?"

She really was kind of cute. I gestured to a chair.

She all but took a running leap into it. "Wow! It spins! How neat!" And she set at once to spinning it around and around.

It was a forceful foot I had to put on the chair to stop it. "Okay. Fun. I know. Are you allergic to anything you know of?"

She shook her head. "Nothing besides my brainless stepsisters."

"Perfect. Let's wash."

I don't know if she had ever washed her hair before judging from the panic that glowed from her eyes. She actually screamed as the water from the sink hit her hair. I would have screamed to if I had let myself. Actually, it was kind of cool how muddy the water splashing up and filling the sink became.

Her hair was thick. I found that out quickly. The kind of thick I would have killed for. Tragically it was not suiting her hanging around as she had it. I was going to have to cut. But first thing first. I shampooed again, then loaded as much conditioner as I dared onto her locks. She had finally stopped struggling. I wrapped a towel around her head and went for the scissors.

She closed her eyes the entire time as I snipped. Her face came into view. Very pretty face, despite the freckles. Actually, the freckles made it cute.

She was going to need a facial. I loved giving facials.

This was fun.


	12. Intelligence

Cinder looked fantastic. Well, maybe fantastic wasn't quite the ultimate description, but she looked infinitely better than she had before. The girls even gathered around at the end to see my accomplishment, hovering over Cinder like she were a basket of kittens. Their fingers reached out in such accord as well, smothering her hair and examining the results of the facial. There wasn't much I could do about sunburned skin and freckles, but I had done something.

As for Cinder, she squirmed under the attention with the brightest of smiles on her face that sent her back ten years to the maturity of a third grader. "My face feels weird, Tansy."

"It's called healthy skin," I replied happily as I swept up the mess of hair and dirt from the floor and dumped it into the trash. Cinder was a pretty thing now, but she certainly had been a dirty thing. It was my magnum opus, I decided. I really didn't know what those terms meant, but then again the school of the regular masses had not been my thing.

"You're so adorable!" Linda squealed, all but pinching Cinder's cheeks. "I feel like such a brat but I thought for sure that you were going to be a complete disaster. We hate most Cinderellas around this place, you realize. We despise them."

Cinder laughed. "Hey, I try to be despicable. What was that gunk you put in my hair again?"

I held up the bottle. "It's called conditioner. Maybe we should get you some."

"But I don't bathe."

"Yeah. I know. You should start."

A blush deepened through her red and glowing face as she ducked her head. "I mean, I'll hop in the horses' trough before they drink and all, but I'm really so darn busy and I'm just gonna get dirty all over again—"

Alexis whistled lowly and turned back to the unfortunate princess she was now ignoring. "Maybe we should load you up on soap."

"Or I could just steal some from my stepmom's place."

I decided I liked the girl. I finished my cleaning, checked my make-up in the mirror (a long day of scrubbing and washing could wreak havoc on a face) and gave my final scrutiny of the dirty little stable girl known as Cinder. She was not a Cinderella yet, but her hair was clean. And I liked it. Once a little shampoo, conditioner, and mousse had been swabbed through that mane of hers it was quite lovely. The highlights were incredible. I wanted them. They ran down the length of her hair, cracks in the hardened honey. Her eyes were humongous now that they weren't blocked by mud. Like a pair of green apples. I had scrubbed off a lot of the dead skin on her face, and once the rest of it healed up she just might have something going for her. I leaned back against the counter and smiled.

Cinder grinned, those white-white teeth glittering. I would kill for teeth that white. "Do I like pretty?"

I nodded. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

"It's all right." She stuck a finger into her ear for a scratch. Ick. "I'm not a pretty sort. There's not a whole lot of use for prettiness, my mama used to say."

Good grief, she sounded like one of those feminists! "Nonsense. Everyone likes to be pretty." I paused. "Do you hate it?"

She shook her head fervently in another juvenile shoot to innocence. It was like dealing with a child. "I love it! Thank-you so much!"

"We're going to have to get you a different outfit, you realize. And do you make-up."

She began picking at her. "What for?"

I had to be honest. "Because your clothes are disgusting!"

She didn't seem to be offended, only nodded with a stare as if I were the idiot. "Of course they're disgusting, I take care of horses in them."

I laughed. "Cinder, Cinder, Cinder. Make another appointment with me and I will show you many other ways."

She bit her lip. It was adorable. She had good, plump lips. "Sure, but I want some of that conditioner stuff in return."

"Deal." If a bottle went missing, I would blame Rowe.

It was only after Cinder had left that I feared she would use the expensive conditioner on the tails of horses.

Dang that girl.

Alexis raised an eyebrow at me. Clearly she was thinking the same thing. The mind-reading of the Salon girls was finally including me.

I shrugged and smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow." I grabbed my things and headed to the door.

It flew open, smacking in the in the face. My hands jumped to my throbbing nose. Thank goodness I wasn't bleeding. But I think I said something very unladylike.

"Mr. Maser, you just killed the new girl!" Alexis shouted.

I lifted my head, wrinkled my nose, and tried to suck tears back into my eyes.

There was my boss, watching me in bemused fascination that did not seem to include any remorse. Jerk. "Oh, Tansy! Oh, dear, I'm sorry! Was that you in my way?"

I stumbled a few feet back. What a jerk! "You were in my way."

"I didn't realize you were coming out."

"I think you broke my nose."

He rolled his eyes at that and blew a noisy sigh through his lips. "I did not break your nose. I have seen many a broken nose in my day and that one certainly isn't broken. And if it is, I shall see in a few minutes because I want to speak with you."

My mind instantly returned to the bottle of conditioner. "Huh? I was just heading out."

"I know. Which is why I wanted to stop you. I only have a very short time…" He glanced at his watch. "Four minutes, to be exact."

I rubbed my nose. Dang, but it hurt. If it bruised, I truly would kill the man. I only hoped his sexy son would not mind. "Do we have to go to your office?"

He glanced at Alexis and her princess. "Do you mind to overhear us?"

"I could care less," came the reply. Alexis had just turned on a hair dryer.

"Then we can speak here and just toss you over the sink in the off-chance your nose starts to bleed again," he said nonchalantly. Too casual to match his outfit. He was going for something of a business suit this time. It was actually quite tasteful. "I know you went out with Rowe."

"We had dinner," I said.

He nodded impatiently. "Yes, I realize very well that you had dinner."

Was he going to chew me out for having dinner with a grown man?

"Tansy, I just want to let you know that we have curses around this place. If you haven't heard all the gossip yet, and that does not begin to cover the amount of bad spells flying around this business."

"More gossip!" Alexis said happily.

I stared at him. How utterly random. "Besides Mary?"

He nodded pointedly and held up a finger. "Besides Mary. I just wanted to warn you of that. I must be honest and say that I'm not yet entirely positive of your intelligence…"

My jaw dropped.

"But intelligence really has nothing to do with it and I did not hire you because you had a doctorate's. That kind of learning would make it impossible to work in such an area as this."

What in the world was he talking about? I felt my lungs grow heavy. How dare he! He had just about called me stupid! I knew I wasn't very smart, but to have him tell me like that! "Mr. Maser, I really think I should be going home right now."

I expected him to deny it, but he only nodded. "Yes, you should, and I really must be getting back to my office immediately, so let me walk you to the door."

I pushed past him. "I don't need you to walk me to the door."

He didn't argue. "Then suit yourself."

I hit the hallway outside the Salon and took off at a run.

It was only in the middle of super-sizing my dinner that night that I wondered what any of that had to do with Rowe. Fortunately the answer came immediately. Mr. Maser was more than an idiot. He was absolutely crazy. Not to mention tactless.

I drove home in a fury, shoving fries down my throat the entire while. Thank goodness I had the metabolism I did or I would only feel worse.

He had doubted my intelligence, whatever that meant. And then he had the nerve to act like it was a good thing.

I swerved my car into the parking space. The fries were all but gone and a frosty tasted good over that salty aftertaste. What was so wonderful about being smart? Most smart people I knew were complete snots. At least I was pretty. Mr. Maser couldn't claim either.

Was he saying that I was too dumb and silly to date Rowe? Was Rowe in need of a Harvard graduate girl with a hairy mole?

I marched up to my apartment, wishing I had the skill to eat a chicken sandwich while walking. I stabbed my key into the lock, twisted hard, and entered the apartment.

My drink fell from my hand onto the carpet.

My few books had been dumped from the shelf in a hodge-podge of pages. The television was on its side, covered partially by a cushion from the couch. A pillow had been ripped open, stuffing scattered like snow over my carpet except where the remains of my dishes threatened bare feet.


	13. Karma

My immediate thought was _Great, now the carpet is stained. _A very silly thought considering I knew perfectly well how to get chocolate out of a rug—within the first ten minutes, of course. I moaned, the sound coming more as of a shriek, and picked my cup back up. Strands of cotton stuffing were attached to the chocolate, and I furiously pulled them away. I didn't want to finish my Frosty, anyway. I would just dump the rest of it down the sink and throw the cup in the trash. I sucked in breath that my lungs did not seem to want and darted to the sink. Glass crunched underneath my shoes. Good thing the soles were thick. I turned on the faucet and watched in fascination as the Frosty swirled down the sink like a tie-dye pattern. But when it came to throwing the cup away, there was no place to put it. My trash bin had been turned on its head. So, so gross!

That was when I screamed. I screamed good and hard and chucked the empty paper cup against the wall above the couch with all my might. Paper cups don't fly very far or make much of an impact.

No one had ever broken into my house before. Ever. Back home, the town had been too small for stuff like that, and I had always been careful since moving here to always lock my door. I was paranoid like that. Plus, I liked pulling out my cute key chain.

But the door had been locked! There could not have been a break-in if there wasn't a forced entry!

Why would anyone do such a thing? It wasn't like I had anything to steal! Nothing huge. Nothing terribly expensive.

Except…

I screamed again and smashed my foot into the carpet. Shards of plate actually leapt. Michael!

The phone had been torn from the wall. I jammed the wire back into phone jack and dialed Michael's number. A pity I had taken him off the instant calling thingamajigger. I had to stand while I yelled at him. I couldn't sit down on what was left at my couch. How could he have done such a thing?

The phone rang twice before he answered, as cool and dumb as you could please. "Hello?"

"Michael!" I shrieked. I whirled around the room, kicking at pillows and glass. I was so going to injure myself. Get a good shard of plate right in the eye. I didn't care. "What are you thinking?"

Silence. "Huh? Tansy?"

Idiot. Jerk. Words I couldn't say. "What do you mean? You know exactly what you did!" Tears burned at my eyes. I was so mad at him. Why would he do such a thing? Just for a stupid i-Pod! "My apartment! You completely trashed my apartment!"

"Your apartment was trashed?" He still sounded clueless, almost worried. What a faker. " Tansy, what happened?"

I picked up the torn pillow and squeezed it between my fingers. "You know!" I was crying now. Crying hard. I was scared and mad and confused and everything else I could be. "You wanted your stupid i-Pod back so you came to my apartment to look for it and you wrecked everything like my couch and my dishes and…" The tears took over all power then.

"Tansy, I would never do such a thing. You know that. You know me better than that. Did you just get home?"

I nodded, then realized he couldn't, of course, see me. I sniffed, hiccupped, and tried to speak. "Yeah. I… I unlocked my door and everything was ruined. Someone broke in… and you have a key!"

"No, I don't." He was still acting all concerned. "You never gave me a key to your place."

That was true. I didn't believe in giving my boyfriends keys. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. "If you didn't…"

"Tansy, have you called the police yet?"

"…no."

He laughed. He actually laughed, the creep. "Tansy, I'm going to hang up and come over. You call the police."

"But I don't—"

He hung up, and I was left with a dial tone and a messy apartment. I did not want to call the police. I didn't want to do anything except cry. First Mr. Maser and now this.

So I cried. I sat down in the only clear spot on the floor, pulled my knees into my chest, and sobbed for a good five minutes. Then I called the police. I felt so stupid as I did. A scared little girl upset because her apartment wasn't neat. They asked the obvious. Was anything missing?

No, nothing was missing. My bedroom was even worse than the living room. Not even the bathroom had been left alone. Mirrors were smashed, clothes and make-up and jewelry scattered everywhere. But I did not notice anything missing."

I called Kendra next. I got a heck of a lot more sympathy from her than I did from Michael. She was downright horrified. Then again, she was the one who had decorated the place.

Michael burst in almost the exact moment I hung up after Kendra. He was in his pajama bottoms (blue with baseballs) and a white t-shirt. He was certainly planning on going to bed early. He hadn't even knocked. He didn't even close the door, just stared in fascination at the war zone.

I burst into tears again.

He swore and ran over to me for a hug. "Tansy, I am so sorry. I had no idea it was this bad. Who would—"

He didn't have the answers, either. I sobbed into his shoulder until the police arrived. Thank heaven for ex-boyfriends.

The police came and did their thing. Asked me lots of hard questions I couldn't answer. Who has a key? Did I have any enemies? Was I sure nothing was missing? Then they dusted for fingerprints and took photos. Then they left.

Kendra was over by then, heavy-duty garbage bags in hand and a firm sneer of grim doom upon her face. This was vengeance. "I was planning on redoing this place anyway, Tansy."

It wasn't completely inspiring, but it did yank a laugh from me. "I like it the way it is. I don't want anything different."

"Yes, well, I have to redo this couch. This couch is dead."

I liked my couch. "Can we just clean?"

It was midnight by the time the three of us had the place looking half-way decent. Midnight. How ironic.

* * *

I didn't sleep well at all. Kendra spent the night, and she was out like a light, face scrubbed clean of make-up, curls all over the living pillow I had loaned her. I tried everything save pills, but I was too upset. Why wouldn't I be? Someone had broken into my house!

I eventually made my way to the window. I opened it and stared out into the night. The sky was clear and heavy with light pollution, but a few stars managed to twinkle. How pretty.

The grounds of the apartment building were clear, not even a stray cat. My peaceful little neighborhood. Nothing bad around here. I stared back at the stars for a while, but eventually my gaze returned to the ground.

Someone was there. A man, staring up at my window—at me. He wore a business suit, a man coming home very late from a meeting. Except I didn't know what meeting that would be, because Rowe did not have a normal sort of job. Yes, it was Rowe, smiling up at me.

Okay, this was good. This was exactly what I needed. One ray of light in this bad day. I waved back at him.

His smile wavered for a moment, then came back all the brighter.

I hated to wake the neighbors, so I tried to motion him to stay right there. Then I grabbed a coat and ran downstairs.

But by the time I made it to the yard, Rowe was gone.

* * *

Make-up can always improve a bad day. I've learned this. The worse you are feeling, the brighter the make-up. It was an excuse to wear glitter. Bright blue eye-shadow with a little yellow to soften it. Caribbean pink lipstick. Glitter on the cheekbones. And, gosh darn it, scrunchies for the hair.

Kendra offered to drive me to work, but I really did not want to tell her where this place was. Besides, I would be fine. As long as I had caffeine in me. I stopped at the grocery store for an energy drink. That would save me.

The rest of the morning people were in there, those not interested in picking up breakfast with gas. I stared at the line of energy drinks in front of the check-out lines, trying to figure out what combination of price, brand, and flavor would be best.

A woman came up next to me and grabbed the first can her hand touched. She was probably in her early thirties. She wore no make-up and her brown hair had static. Her face was good, though. Very pretty. Only she looked worried and stressed. Like how I felt. She should have worn bright make-up. You couldn't feel too sad in bright make-up. But she was pretty. The brown jacket she wore was too big for her, and somewhat on the ragged side. Her jeans were stained, and I was pretty sure she only had a cheap t-shirt. My gaze followed her to the check-out stand, where she fumbled for change in her pocket.

Why was I staring at this woman?

Two more women passed her. No, not passed. They actually stopped and stared at her. Business women, maybe lawyers. Whatever feminist career they had. Perfect, boring make-up. Perfect, boring hair. Expensive, boring clothes. And so not their colors.

Energy drink woman slapped down a crumple dollar bill and finally some coins.

MBA women were actually snickering.

Grow up, I thought.

I made my selection and got in the same line as the first woman, just as she was thanking the cashier. I gave her a friendly smile, and she returned it.

Wouldn't get that kind of reaction from those other ladies. Snobs. I hoped their expensive cars blew tires.

* * *

My energy drink selection had actually been two cans. I just had to see what Mary would act like on caffeine. Was caffeine bad for fairies? I really didn't want to completely upset the entire magical world, but I was darn curious. Plus, it was the nice thing to do. I had enough badness happen to me, and I needed to create some good karma. I pasted on a smile—something else crucial for a good mood—and put down a can on her desk.

Mary froze from her typing. "Ooh, I love these! I'm a secret caffeine addict."

Good enough. "I had a suspicion. It's good to know. Cute outfit."

She blushed. "Thanks." It really wasn't too bad. Some dark jeans and a basic black tee. Nothing fancy, but it worked. "Um, Mr. Maser wants to speak to you."

But I needed good karma!

"He's in his office." She nodded toward his door.

Good grief. I sighed and took a sip of my drink. "Now?"

"He said first thing."

I took a deep breath and entered his office.

The man was sitting at his desk doing a Sudoku puzzle, of all things. He was wearing jeans a t-shirt from Montana. He put it down the moment he saw me. "Ah, Tansy. Thanks for coming in."

I thought of a dozen nasty things I couldn't say.

He cleared his throat and stood up. "Tansy, I just wanted to apologize for last night."

My first thought was that Mr. Maser had broken into my apartment. "Sir?"

"I upset you," he continued. "I had no intention of doing so. Tansy, you are a great young woman. I guess that sometimes I just get upset and well…"

"Tactless?" I ventured. "Rude?"

He smiled. He looked so much better when he smiled. "Both of those and worse. Believe me, I truly did not mean to be that way."

Whatever. No, I needed good karma. I had to accept the apology. And he did seem sincere. "It's all right. I shouldn't have been so upset."

"I do think you're smart."

I didn't know what to say to that. No one had ever said that to me. I stared down at my gold sandals. "Why, thank-you."

Then we were silent for a while.

He coughed. "Well, you had better get to work. How about joining me for lunch?"

I laughed. Maybe he wasn't so bad. "No, thanks. Perhaps another time."

He laughed as well. "I'll hold you to it."

I'd rather have lunch with his son. I should have asked him what the heck Rowe had been doing at my apartment.

"By the way, something I need to mention about this job. Be very, very careful whom you tell about this. Be very careful."

I nodded. He sounded very strict. "Okay. Well, I'll see you."

"Have a good day, Tansy."

The hall felt refreshing. What a weird moment in there.

Linda came barreling out of the Salon as fast as her pregnant body would carry her. "Tissues, Tansy! We need tissues!"

"Tissues?" I echoed. This was a very weird morning indeed. "What for?"

Brittany came next. "Princess Mayblossom! She's back. We need chocolate!"

I was very confused.

Linda sighed and grabbed me by the shoulders. "Comforting time. Princess Mayblossom has become very unfortunate in love."


	14. Men vs Chocolate

To call Princess Mayblossom unfortunate was the understatement of the century. I entered the Salon to find a cluster of fairy godmothers and princesses (in various stages of hair and make-up) gathered around one chair occupied by a very pretty someone—with purple hair. Even with red eyes and a splotchy face Princess Mayblossom was gorgeous. Lucky kid, to have that kind of beauty at her age.

Lucky? Yes. I just had to remind her for what she did have.

"Men are pigs," someone with practically Rapunzel-hair was saying distastefully as she rubbed Mayblossom's hand. "Men evolved from swine!"

Mayblossom attempted to nod, but froze half-way through and let out another heart-wrenching cry.

Uh-oh. Man trouble. Well, I had been through plenty of man-trouble. I took a deep breath and marched forward. "Let me see her, out of my way."

Veronica pushed some girls away enough to allow me a sight of Princess Mayblossom. Poor, poor thing! Her dress, which once was lovely to behold, was shredded and filthy, almost giving Cinder a run for the money. Dirt clods all but grew from her nail beds. Why had no one begun a manicure yet? What had she been through?

I didn't care if Veronica had been here longer. I turned to her, feeling almost like a general in a war. "Veronica, begin soaking her fingers and find some bright nail polish. Maybe something glittery."

Veronica did not argue, but actually saluted me before bursting towards the cupboards.

"She needs a strawberry facial!" someone insisted.

Strawberry facial. Yes, indeed. "Good idea!"

Like popcorn ideas for improving Mayblossom's condition appeared, so fast I could scarcely hear them all. Shampoo, facial, pedicure, all the basics. Yes, yes. Were there any aromatherapy candles around?

At least Mayblossom was showing something of a smile. I crouched next to her, grabbing her grubby hand. "Are you okay? What happened to you?"

Oops. Wrong question. The tear ducts looked ready to go again. "The ambassador," she mumbled.

Oh, yes. The ambassador boy she had thought was cute. My heart twisted. "He didn't work out?"

"Total creep," a girl said. "Do you have any idea what he did to her? Any idea?"

Of course my mind went for the most awful things first.

"Cad," someone else chimed in. "Princess Mayblossom tells him that she finds him attractive, and the opinion is mutual. So they decide to run off together."

"Back!" Linda cried from the door. She was holding her belly, waving a flowery box of tissues above her head. Brittany was behind her with two bags of bite-size Musketeers. "Chocolate will make you forget that jerk! Chocolate saves all! And if it doesn't, I shall personally take you shoe-shopping on my husband's credit card!"

"Bring me!" Veronica called.

"Chocolate!" I raised my arms, and Brittany chucked me a bag, which I ripped open and handed to Mayblossom. "Keep talking. I need to know everything."

She sniffed, swallowed the candy bar, and grabbed a tissue from the box Linda thrust in front of her hair. Even her nose-blowing was delicate and ladylike. "Well, we had my birthday party. I was going to meet the prince but me and Fanfaronade decided to run away together before then and we did—"

"Hang on, hang on. You fell in love with a guy named Fanfaronade?"

She shrugged. "I guess it is kind of stupid."

I sighed. "Honey, you can always judge a guy by his name when it's that bad."

Linda nodded. "Exactly. You can say it's a cultural or family name, but that just shows the nature of the family or culture in which the guy grew up, so there you go."

Mayblossom giggled and unwrapped another piece of fluffy chocolate nougat. "Thanks. I feel a little bit better. Anyway, we went to Squirrel Island."

I wanted to say something about that, but Linda hushed me ahead of time.

"It was all pretty and quaint, and I thought it would be fun to be on this little island together in the middle of the lake. But it was so uncomfortable, there was no where to sleep…"

I understood that. I hated camping.

"… and there was nothing to eat and neither of us knew how to make a fire. And then he started being awful! He made me go look for food to eat. Then it got so cold that night! And he said it was all my fault and that he only wanted me because…" she sniffed again. "Because I was a princess and rich. So I came here."

If I hadn't hated Ambassador Fanfaronade because of his stupid name, I would have hated him then. I squeezed a Musketeer between my hands—wrapped, of course. "Coward! That is no kind of man!" Then I recalled that I had been the one to tell her to go after him in the first place. Well, for crying out loud, I didn't know what he was like!

"I should have married the prince I never met," Mayblossom sulked.

"You should have," said Linda. "Or at least met him first before making your decision. Maybe he was really your kind of guy after all."

"Now no one will want to marry me."

"Not with these nails." Veronica pushed a small table over complete with manicure stuff. "Don't worry, I am the manicure queen around here."

I ran my hand over my face and breathed deeply. I felt awful still. "Mayblossom, never, ever, ever listen to my advice again."

Mayblossom stared up at me wide-eyed.

"Unless it's good advice," said Linda.

I raised an eyebrow, and she just shrugged. "I'm just saying that you'll probably give good advice sometime in your life."

That was good to know. "Thank-you."

"Can you give me some good advice now?" Mayblossom asked in a quiet voice.

"Uh…" My mind went blank. "What kind of advice are you looking for?"

She was silent a long time. Every girl in that room watched on as they ate the candy bars. Then she took a deep breath and grinned. "I want revenge."

Now it was my turn to laugh. Inspiration came. "That's easy. Wait till he falls asleep. Steal everything valuable upon him and get the heck off that island. Oh, and dump dirt down his pants."

By the time every other girl had chimed in with her individual response, it seemed that Fanfaronade was the all-out victim. At least I had begun it. I hadn't done too many things during my life.

Two hours and a cry fest later, Princess Mayblossom looked as gorgeous as ever. She was ready to meet her prince and possibly kill Ambassador Fanfaronade and his stupid name.

I hoped everything went better this time. When was her curse supposed to end?

* * *

My next appointment was a young woman named Susanna. The name in the appointment book didn't mean much—I was almost expecting Pollyanna's cousin to come waltzing in a gingham dress. 

I was wrong.

Susanna emerged through one of the most tasteful and elegant doors around. She was tall, she had a good body type, and her face was amazing—nothing too flashy, but good, solid, and pretty. Classic. Her hair was deep red, a color that made me wonder if the red didn't want to stand out too much, but still liked being red. Her dress was equally elegant, yellow, tasteful, yet clearly expensive.

I instantly wondered what kind of princess she was. I had already dealt with Cinderella and Snow White. She was gorgeous, but so were all the others. And Snow White, the most beautiful, was a complete and total snot.

This Susanna did not look happy at all. But it was in a different way than Snow White.

"Hi!" I said cheerfully, extending a hand. "I'm Tansy and I'll be your fairy godmother today."

"Susanna," she replied tiredly, shaking my hand as firmly as she could, which wasn't much. She eyed the mostly empty bag of Musketeers. "Can I have one of those? I'm so sorry, but it has been of those days. Weeks, actually."

I handed her the bag and led her into the chair. "I'm sorry. I know how that feels. Wow, I love your hair."

She smiled faintly. "Thanks. I like yours. I've always envied blondes, but I don't think I could pull it off."

I laughed. "Maybe a darker shade of blonde… well, tell me what you want."

She popped the chocolate into her mouth. "I want the Beast to grow up!"

Ah. Question answered. Beauty and the Beast. "I meant hair-wise."

She shrugged. "A trim. I have all these split-ends. And a shampoo first, of course. It's so dusty in the castle, I think it just clings to my hair. But the Beast is too lazy to get a housekeeper and I certainly can't do everything! I try! I think it's important to have a semi-clean castle, but he's such an animal! Literally, you know."

I turned on the faucet and learned her back over the sink. "He hasn't… transformed yet?"

"Transformed? Sadly, no. And I don't think he would be much better as a prince, either. He's just… he just makes me so mad! All we do is fight."

"Over what?"

She waved her hand. "I don't know. Everything. We just don't get along. But I like him a lot. Ever since the beginning. He's great. He just acts like a spoilt child!"

Did anyone have anything good happening with men in their lives? Besides possibly me? "Spill."

By the end of Susanna's session, I was convinced that at least half of everything was her fault. She was a nice girl, don't get me wrong. And I still wanted to yell at the Beast. "Have you ever thought of just letting him have that one room?"

She sighed. "I know I should. I just can't… Tansy, would you talk to him? Both of us, I mean?"

"What?" I was no counselor!

"Please," Susanna begged. "I have no one to talk to anyway in that damn place, and maybe if he had someone to talk to, too. You're such a good listener. Just come visit us. Please. Before I go crazy."

Well, it was a castle. And I could see she was desperate.

* * *

The crazy thing was that I felt a hundred times better by the time I left the Salon. Listening to the problems of others all day was actually a little good for the soul, apparently. 

Mary and Linda were at the desk, laughing over something. "Tansy, look at the discovery we made!"

The discovery was Mary's Word-of-the-Day desk calendar. How like her. She could have picked something cuter. The date was about a month in the future, but there was the word.

_Fanfaronade: Swaggering; empty boasting; blustering manner or behavior; ostentatious display._

I laughed, too. No wonder the guy had been such a jerk.

"Oh," said Mary. "There's one more thing. From Mr. Maser." She blushed as she spoke, and pushed a block of sticky notes my way. "He left it with me. Don't ask me why."

The note read: _Can I give Rowe your number?_

Whoa.

"Can't Rowe just ask you himself? Or Mr. Maser?" Linda grinned. "But it's kind of cute, in a way."

Rowe apparently already knew where I lived. But what they hey? I jotted down a large 'yes'.

It was kind of cute. "I just hope Rowe isn't under any kind of spell."

Mary flinched at the mention of spell, and Linda just shrugged. "I doubt it. He's just Rowe Maser. Though he could be a vampire, possibly."

"Huh?"

"I'm teasing. I'm just saying that I've never seen him during the daytime. At least not in my memory."

"That's probably because he works during the day," I said.


	15. Monica

The apartment looked a thousand times better. After gingerly opening the door in dread of seeing small fires and graffiti, a stray vacuum and a new yellow polka dot slip cover was just what I needed to see. The mess was completely gone, replaced only by terrible evidence that I was a lousy decorator and the subtle scent of the Tropical Breeze vacuum powder stuff I kept around. Thank you, Kendra and Michael!

I set my stuff down on the new slip cover (dang, but did Kendra have taste!) and headed to the fridge. I had the oddest craving for pickles. A pickle sounded very good. As I passed the newly established shelf, I noticed the message light blinking like a baby warning light. How cute.

Of course the first thought that had popped into my mind was Rowe.

Pickles could wait. It was more of a strong desire than a craving. I dove for the machine, brutally knocking over my Mary Higgins Clark collection and almost breaking a nail.

The first message was from Kenda, checking up on me. Totally sweet of her, but I deleted it after the first sentence-and-a-half.

The weird lady voice announced message number two, and thus came the voice. His voice.

"Hi, Tansy. This is… Rowe. I hope you figured that out, that I made that much of an impression on you. Listen, I know you saw me last night and then calling you so fast after everything is probably on the bad side of the stalker list, but I can promise you whole-heartedly that is not the situation."

Stalker situations were only creepy if you didn't like the guy. I needed that needle-pointed on a pillow. I giggled like a kindergarten girl and gently bit the edge of my nails. Boy, did I like this one. He had definite possibilities.

"So I would like to see you again. And I promise I won't rag on you about the beautician thing. Meet me for ice cream at 8:00? I'll take you to Farr's."

One could not beat Farr's Ice Cream. Ice cream was one of the most romantic foods on the whole planet. Next to strawberries and other suggestive items. Good thing I wasn't that kind of girl.

"So if you get this message in time, call me back." He rambled off his phone number.

I was in such a hurry to call him back that I didn't realize there was a third message until I was in the bathroom redoing make-up. And by then I didn't care.

* * *

We both got the Huckleberry. There was something about teeny-tiny berries yanked mercilessly from their bushes to be squeezed and pressed into vanilla ice cream. The shop was all but empty, just us and a couple of thoroughly unattractive teenage boys with too much acne running the ice cream. Rowe and I picked a table in the corner, next to a Normal Rockwell poster. I only realized then that it was difficult to eat ice cream sexily without being too sexy. Considering it was only a second date, or whatever, I went for less is more.

"I'm so glad you asked me out again," I said truthfully.

"That dinner was not a date." He said it with a laugh, though. He had the most adorable laugh.

"So then I'm glad you asked me out, because I am certainly considering this a date." I daintily plucked a chunk of huckleberry from the scoop and placed it on my tongue.

He paused to consider that. There was a drizzle of ice cream on his lip, and his tongue carefully scooped over it. "Yes, this is a date. I am not going to deny that."

"You bad boy. Dating your father's employees."

He laughed again, this time placing a sense of the melodramatic villain in there. "It's a lot worse than you think, Tansy."

"I don't care. I like you, and if your father has a problem with that, then he can fire me."

"You're too good to be fired."

I stopped eating and studied him. He didn't seem embarrassed by the remark, and I probably should have taken it as a nice compliment only his tone did not quite fit that. I could not understand his tone at all. I only knew it wasn't an insult. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, no effort to escape the conversation, just slight confusion it was till continuing. "I only mean you are good at this. I don't think you'd be fired for being good at your job. That sort of defeats the concept of work. You're needed there."

Good enough. I took another lick. The ice cream was delicious. "I've certainly got you chatting tonight. Asking me out and everything."

"Believe me, Tansy, this is not normal for you." He smiled sheepishly and scratched his nose. Finally something embarrassing. "I'm what you might call still in possession of a fear of girls."

"I'm not scary," I replied. "I'm too cute to be scary." I proved as much by making a cute face. I knew I was positively adorable.

"Clearly." He sighed. "I'm sorry about last night. That isn't something I do, either. I don't go stand outside of people's homes. I know it's creepy."

"As long as you didn't pull a gun or turn into a werewolf. Or a vampire."

He raised an eyebrow. "A vampire?"

"We were leaving the salon and we were talking about you and… never mind. You had to be there for it to be funny. But I sort of thought you were cute last night, whatever you were doing."

His face actually turned red. "I'm not a cute person most of the time."

"Just right now." I winked at him. "You truly do look adorable."

He smiled.

I had the sudden desire that he should kiss me, but just then thunder ripped across all sound and water immediately began to strike the window.

"Rain," Rowe said blandly.

I was in possession of two moods, only one operating at a time. Sometimes I wanted to keep away from the rain, other times I wanted to dance in it. Tonight I was wearing waterproof mascara and I was in the latter mood. I took another huge bite of ice cream, fought the brain freeze, swallowed, and jumped to my feet. "Come on! Let's go dance in the rain."

Rowe frowned. He made him look a lot like Mr. Maser, only better looking. "You have got to be kidding me."

"No!" I squealed. "It's a warm night and it will be fun. We can get hot chocolate afterwards or something."

"Tansy, I do not dance in the rain."

I laughed and tugged his arm. "You will tonight! You will get soaking wet and you will be happy for it." Shy boy. Shy shy shy.

He shook his head. "I am going to sit here and finished eating my ice cream. Because it is good."

"You are coming outside!" He was bigger than me, so I honestly have no idea how I dragged him to the door. The night was indeed warm, and the rain was falling at the perfect rain-dancing way. I twirled out into it, arms over my rolled-back head.

Rowe just stood there, looking wet and miserable. "Lots of fun, this is."

"You have to dance!" I called. "You're not dancing!"

"No, because I don't want every solitary soul driving past to stare at me!"

"They will only be jealous! That's why they're staring." I hopped over a newly formed puddle. I felt ridiculous, but giddy at the same time. The fact that Rowe refused to join me was only all the more entertaining. "Don't I look pretty?" I stopped twirling, breathless, to wait for his response.

He only smiled. "You do look pretty. But I'm going back inside."

I chased after him, taunting all the way.

"I am so not nursing you back to health when you catch pneumonia," he said as he sat back down at the table.

The acne boys were watching be, amused. I didn't care. "At least I had fun!"

"I envy you that!" Rowe said. "Do you want your hot chocolate now?"

I slid into my chair. I was beginning to shiver. At least the shop was warm. "Or we could make a rain check and have breakfast."

Rowe was finishing up is now very melty ice cream. "Sorry, but I don't do breakfast."

"You can watch me eat."

He bit his lip thoughtfully. "What I mean to say is that I'm not available to have breakfast tomorrow."

Okay, so he was busy. "What about lunch? Pop by for lunch."

"Can't do that, either."

Darn. "Wow, Mary was right."

He blinked. "Mary? Right about what?"

"The vampire thing I mentioned earlier. She says she has never seen you during the day and therefore you must be a vampire."

He laughed. Good. I was almost afraid he now hated me. "I'm not a vampire. Don't worry there."

"Then how come—"

"Tansy? Tansy Bryner?"

I followed the very familiar voice up, then screamed and tore to my feet. "Monica!"

My old beauty school teacher hugged me back. She smelled the same as always, her signature scent of roses and oranges. "How great to see you, dear! I wanted to hear about your job! When Kendra called me and said you had something very chic, I knew I had to hear all about it."

"It's…" I wasn't supposed to talk about the job. "It's all right, it's a job."

"And they are very lucky to have you!" Monica pulled back. "Let me look at you. Playing in the rain, I see."

Monica looked the same as ever. An older woman, in her forties, though no one could tell as much. She had let it slip once. Only a few lines around the eyes, just enough for character, and pale, flawless skin of which I couldn't help but be envious. Her face was round, sweet, but with sharp features. Her black hair hung to her shoulders, thick straight, with a single strand of blue. It was an incredible combination. Monica had always called herself striking rather than gorgeous, but of course that is where the whole beauty thing came in. It was all about making people beautiful.

"I like the rain," I admitted.

"Waterproof mascara. Get the good kind, and you are set for life. What brand is that?"

"Yours."

She laughed richly. "Of course it is. Now, introduce me to your friend."

"Huh?" I giggled. "Oh, yes. I almost forgot he was there. I mean, I didn't even see you come in, Monica! This is Rowe Maser."

But Rowe did not seem pleased at the sight of Monica. He didn't say a single word.

"A pleasure," Monica said. She knew enough about people not to bother with a hand shake. At least she was polite and friendly and all that jazz.

It was very awkward.

"Well," she continued. "I suppose I shall just have to let you get back to your date. I will talk to you later, dear."

I sat back down, rather furious. "What was that about?"

He stared at me, wide-eyed. "That's Monica?" he hissed. "That's Monica?"

Had I mentioned Monica's to him? No. "Yes, that's Monica. How did you know about her?"

He muttered something under his breath and rubbed with a napkin at the ice cream spill he had caused on the table. "I'm taking you home, Tansy. I'm sorry, but I have to do something now."

"With Monica?" I was extremely confused. "Hey, she is the coolest person ever!"

He snorted. "Whatever. Come on."

I stayed put. "Tell me what's going on."

He hovered over his seat, face going through a range of emotions. "She's a fairy, Tansy. A real fairy."


	16. More Curses

At this point in my life I was pretty much willing to accept whatever nonsense spouted at me including the concept of real fairies. Okay. That was something with which I could deal. Not a bad thing. I wasn't about to deny what was right in front of my face. But all through beauty school Monica had been my idol. Which I suppose in many ways made her super-wonderful, but she was certainly no fairy. "What the heck are you talking about?" I demanded.

Rowe plunged back into his seat, face still glowering. "She's a fairy."

"And you are sounding like a crazy person. A crazy person who… believes in fairies and all that." Not the best comeback of my life, but it still fit the situation. Maybe I was crazy.

He stood up again. He was probably going to sit back down. He wasn't going to make up his mind. It was kind of cute. But then he had to speak. "Get your bag and let's go. I'm sorry to end this date early, but it was spur of the moment."

"Not until you tell me what's going on." I was very good at being stubborn when the moment arose. "Just because I'm not very smart doesn't mean you have to ignore me."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, his entire face going red with an emotion I couldn't quite place. Embarrassment? Anger? Some other emotion with a funky name that went between? "Tansy, that is not fair! I never said you were stupid."

So it was cheap of me. I crossed my arms over my chest. "I want an explanation."

"I already gave it to you!" He grabbed at my bag, but I kept it held back with a silent "mine." It was kind of fun, playing this little game of keep-away. "I told you what she was."

"Say it louder so the rest of the place can hear you," I whispered.

"Now you're just being cruel." He bit his lip. He looked like he was about ready to run out screaming into the rain. "You're right, people are here. How about I tell you in the car?"

"How about I finish my ice cream?" It was a cruel game indeed, I admitted, but it was fun to watch him squirm.

"Tansy, please."

And that ended the game. He just looked so cute and adorable that I… I grabbed my bag, glared at him, and followed him out to the car. Tragically the rain was no longer as fun as it had been earlier and the parking lot seemed a mile long. I thought he was angry, but the more I watched him as we trudged through the downpour the more I realized he was just on edge. About what? Thinking Monica was a fairy? If she were a fairy, was that such a bad thing? It would be cool to find that I had been learning beauty from a real-life fairy that did not work behind a desk. Maybe I was angry at him as well. No, no, I wasn't angry. Rowe was a difficult person at which to get angry. He was too cute for that. Mysterious beyond words, but cute. I think I just enjoyed being pouty.

Finally we were in the car. He was polite enough to open the door for me, though he still didn't say a word. He had the car in gear and out of the parking lot before I made the demand.

"So tell me why you think Monica is a fairy?"

"Because she is one." He didn't even look at me.

"You have to have evidence for those kinds of conclusions. Did you see her sprout wings? Did you see her help a princess? I help princesses all day long and I'm not a fairy."

"You're a godmother," Rowe said. "That's different. You get to wield a magic wand, but it's not like you're Mary or Monica. You can't do real magic."

There were plenty of days when I thought being a beautician was real magic, but I did not say that aloud. "You're avoiding the real answer, Rowe."

He grinned at me. The first glance at me since entering the car and it held the most adorable grin I had ever seen. I melted. "Would you believe me if I said I have met her before?"

"Met her?" I echoed. Raindrops were pelting the window, and suddenly it seemed that the only light and warmth came from Rowe and this bizarre conversation. "But if you had met her before she would have recognized you and you would have said something polite and charming and friendly instead of just sitting there like an idiot and—"

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you in front of your friend," Rowe interjected, "But did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason she wanted me to introduce was because she wanted you to—"

Oh. How silly of me. "To think she didn't know you." I laughed. "Okay, okay. Very impressive and tricky and sneaky. So you really have before met Monica? How cool. She should have set us up ages ago."

Rowe laughed as well, but it was deathly dry. "Uh, yeah. Monica doesn't set people like me up with people like you."

I felt myself blush, and eased as close to him as the seat would allow. "How flattering. But Monica isn't a snob."

"Monica doesn't set people like me up period. It wasn't that kind of an encounter."

"You're still confusing me." So much for romance.

A red light appeared in front of us, and Rowe brought the car to a halt. For a long time I just stared at the smear of red-lit water and the motion of the windshield wipers.

"I'm under a curse," Rowe finally said. "That's why you only see me at night."

I removed my eyes from the windshield and stared at him as a strange feeling of horror settled into my stomach and sent rather delightful chills up my spine. "What?"

The light turned green and Rowe sped through the intersection. And I mean sped. I was surprised no one honked at us. Washington Boulevard was known for its angry drivers. "I'm under a curse," he repeated.

It couldn't be. Mary was under a curse, yes. And Mr. Maser had mentioned other curses around the place. But Rowe? How could Rowe possibly be under a curse? "But… but we're in Ogden! We have a haunted train station and apparently this whole fairy godmother place but…" I wasn't making any sense. Just sounding like an idiot. Of course Rowe could be under a curse. I stared down at my nails and wistfully wished I could have a manicure to make everything all better. "What kind of curse?"

"I'm afraid that part of the curse is that I can't tell you about it."

"And how does this involve Monica?" I was afraid to ask the question, but it shot out of my mouth anyway.

Rowe just looked at me.

"Oh." That was all I could say, at least for the first few seconds. "But Monica would never do that to anyone! Monica's too nice. She helps people."

Another scoffing laugh. "Whatever."

"But she's Monica."

He swung the car around the corner. The street where I lived. "I'm sorry. I know you like her, but I don't and I have my reasons."

I tried to laugh, but it wound up as tear-spilling sob. "Well, I guess if she had cursed me…" I really hoped that Monica had not cursed me. "Would I know if she had cursed me?"

"Usually."

How selfish of me. "I'm sorry."

He pulled into my parking lot where he parked and opened the door for me. "Do you want me to walk you up?"

I shook my head. I did not know what to think. "I can make it on my own."

That seemed to disappoint him. He looked so sad! "Can I see you again?"

I nodded. Most likely. I just need to be upset for a while.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you up?"

"You'll just get wet when you come back out," I replied. "Rowe, I'm sorry. It was a great night even if we didn't stop for hot chocolate. I had fun and I'm sorry about your curse." I seriously hoped no one was listening.

"I had fun, too." Then, without warning, he swooped in and gave me a peck on the lips. Very brief, but it burned like some spicy dish. I wish it had lasted longer. Then he was gone, hopping back into his car and driving away.

For one exhilarating moment I wanted to run screaming after him, the weird stalker cursed boy with the delicious kiss. But it was raining and I couldn't run very fast. So I just headed back up to my apartment in a daze.

It had been a very delicious kiss. It should have lasted longer.

Then I remembered that I was upset and somewhat mad at him.

* * *

As I was still mad and upset the following morning, I made Michael drive me to work. I had never realized how useful ex-boyfriends could be. He was nice enough about the situation and we even made some polite chitchat that had nothing to do with his iPod. He drove a nice car so I made an impression when he stopped in front of Mr. Maser's mysterious shop.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Suit yourself." Actually, I wanted him to. I had to experiment more with him and Mary. So he followed closed behind me, whistling some country song, and opened the door.

Fortunately, Mary was wearing a bit of make-up today and her hair was pulled back with flower clips. Kind of cute, if childish. I would have expected a fairy to have better taste. She stood up as we entered. "Tansy, Mr. Maser wants to speak to you in his office. And… Michael, is it?"

I glanced back at Michael. To my delight, he did not seem to mind Mary's semi-fashionable taste. "Mary?"

She nodded, smiling. She had such a pretty smile.

"Well, bye Tansy," he said. Then he turned and left without so much as a wave.

Moron. I said as much to Mary before I entered Mr. Maser's office.

And instantly my mood returned to upset. My boss did not look happy to see me. He stood behind his desk, his balding head gleaming something rather red. Demon light, I quickly decided. Even if demon light was impossible as I made it up on the spot. Oddly enough, when glaring he looked almost handsome.

I put on my sweetest, most innocent smile and waved at him. "Good morning, Mr. Maser." What in the world had I done wrong?

"Monica's Beauty College, eh?" It was a demand, only with the little rising of the voice to make it a question. "You attended Monica's Beauty College?" My resume was right there on his desk.

Rowe must have said something. If he were in front of me I would have slapped him! "Yes. I told you that when you interviewed me."

He sighed, though the glare remained. "I would have hoped that if you had trained under a wicked fairy you would have told me upfront. Honesty in the workplace and all that."

Oh, that was it! I stamped my foot on the ground—my strappy sandal covered foot. "What is so wrong with Monica?" Other than the fact that she may or may not have cursed Rowe.

"I just told you that she was a wicked fairy."

"And the greatest beautician in this state! And if that was because of magic then so be it! She used her magic for a good purpose!"

"As well as several evil purposes," Mr. Maser countered.

I stomped over to his desk and picked up my resume. His eyes widened as I did so; I don't think he expected that kind of reaction. "I put it right here! If you were so against me training under her than you should have stopped me right off! Instead of having your son skulking around spying on me…"

"No one was spying on you. Monica—or Fiardiltia as she is properly known—was doing the spying." He snatched the resume right out of my hand. "And I almost would have expected you to be on… Rowe's side about this. I was under the impression that you cared for him."

My lip trembled. "You don't get it. I like Rowe and I like Monica. I'm torn right now."

"Then maybe you should get wise and make a decision!" I had never heard him shout before. It was not a pleasant sound.

"You're a jerk," I whispered, taking a step away from the desk. "You're a jerk. I'm trying to deal with this the best I can. All I know of Monica is good things. I like Monica. How am I supposed to know if she really cursed Rowe?"

"I thought you would want to trust people." He also brought his voice down to a whisper.

"And what if I don't know who to trust?" I think I was tearing up at that moment. It was so infuriating. I could accept that maybe Monica was a fairy, but I still could not decide whether to believe the Masers about her.

"Then learn." He handed me a box of tissues. "I hate to see women cry. Clean yourself up."

I snatched a handful of tissues. He was still a jerk.

With a heavy sigh he sat down at his desk. "I'm truly sorry I upset you. It looks like you're upset enough. But if Monica knows you are working here… that information could endanger this entire facility. Everything we have worked for."

No more making princesses beautiful. I nodded in agreement against my will. "I understand. I just don't see how Monica could be beautiful."

"Fiardiltia is a very powerful fairy. She's not the one who cursed Mary, but she is far more powerful. She has been around for nearly two thousand years. If she is able to infiltrate this place… who knows what could happen?"

I still liked Monica.

"What is your schedule like for today?"

I tried to remember. "I think I'm visiting Susanna."

"Who?" It was a gruff voice and Mr. Maser looked confused beyond words.

"Susanna," I repeated. He ran the place and he couldn't even keep the princesses straight. "She's the Beauty one. With the Beast."

"You're doing her hair at her palace?"

Sure, why not? "Yep. She insisted upon it."

Mr. Maser sat still a moment. "I'll come. It will help me watch for Fiardiltia."

"How?"

"I have my ways."

I couldn't have my boss attending me! Not when I was mad at him and his son! "You don't need to come, Mr. Maser."

"I run this place and I assist upon it. Besides, I can find out that door."

At least I had found someone else at which to be angry.

\


	17. Morbidity

On the bright side of the visit, Susanna and the Beast's castle was very nice. Maybe it was all the fairy tales I had read, but there was something totally awesome about being inside a dark and spooky castle. There was probably some weird and fancy architectural terms to the place, but I just thought it looked cool, almost like a haunted house at an amusement park. The towers, or whatever they were really called (like I had any real idea) spiked against a stormy sky. Huge ceilings probably hid bats. Suits of armor lined the hallways like tinsel. The only light came from these freaky sconces. It was one of the most flipping coolest things I had ever seen. Sure, I was freaked out and thought a bat was going to build a nest in my hair, but how often does one get to set foot in a haunted castle? Or an enchanted castle. Whatever. I didn't know the deal. I just wanted to see the cool garden with the rose bushes.

I don't think Mr. Maser was all that impressed. The man still had to attend me, huffing and puffing beside me as if he would rather burn the poor castle to the ground. I still had no idea why he had to insist on coming. He glared at every cool thing the castle had to offer and somehow managed to give it the worst insults possible.

"Don't you find anything interesting about this castle, Mr. Maser?" I asked.

He just groaned. "You women and your romantic notions. It's a complete waste of space."

"It's under a spell," I replied. "Did that not ever occur to you?"

Dinner, however, was less than impressive. Not that the food was bad. The food rocked, actually. I'm not sure what it was, but it was good. I had never had too much difficulty eating foods of the more mysterious definition; all I know is that there are people outside the Wendy's corporation that make some pretty awesome food. Besides, I had always thought about traveling to Europe and eating all the weird foods they have over there. So, yeah, the food was pretty good. I sat there jabbing my fork into it and eating it with the best manners I knew. I had never been to any of those fancy formal dinner training things since high school, but I think I did okay. No one said anything to me.

In fact, no one said much at all. Oh, Susanna and I chatted a bit. I think she wanted to talk more than we did, but, well, the whole thing was a bit on the side of awkward.

First of all, there was Susanna's boyfriend. The Beast. The honest-to-goodness Beast. I had never been much of a nature girl, but I did like animals all right. He was cute, in his way. Furry, almost fluffy. I had the oddest urge to pet him, but since he talked as well as any other guy and was Susanna's boyfriend I let that bad idea slide away. The fur was light brown and speckled with black. He had horns. His face was a mix between a wolf and a guinea pig. Cute, but also properly terrifying. His ears were almost like a pug dog's. He wore clothes, strangely enough. I think I preferred it that way.

Then there was the dining situation. I thought it was cool, personally. It was a long hall, complete with crystal chandelier. The table, though, might have had something to do with it. It was humongous, freakishly long. It wasn't like we ate at distant and opposing sides, but even when you have four people crammed at the end of a mile-long table you still get the impression of cold distance. The Beast sat at the head, Susanna on his right and Mr. Maser at his left. I sat next to Susanna. I figured the girl could use a friend.

Last of all, it was clear that Susanna and the Beast were not on good terms. I could see it in the way they looked at each other. They were the host and hostess, and tension between the host and hostess was never good for the rest of the party.

I tried to chatter on. I can be pretty good at chattering on.

"This castle is lovely," I said. "Is it haunted?"

The Beast just stared at me.

"It's enchanted, actually," Susanna said. "But haunted and enchanted are probably pretty close." She paused to think. "Is it haunted, Beast?"

He stared at her. "Why on earth would it be haunted?"

She shrugged. Rather defiantly, I might add. "I don't know. It would be very neat if it were haunted. Did anyone die here?"

I looked on. It was the longest conversation at the table in the past twenty minutes.

"Die?" Mr. Maser looked suddenly interested. Men. Mention death or anything else gruesome and you instantly had their attention.

"Why would anyone have died here?" the Beast replied.

"Someone might have fallen off a balcony," I suggested.

The Beast actually smiled. I think. Again, what I said about men and gruesome things.

Susanna looked disgusted. "Tansy, that's a terrible thought! Someone falling off a balcony." She shuddered and put down her fancy fork. "Now I can't get that thought out of my head! Why would you say something like that?"

"You're the one that asked if someone died here," the Beast replied.

"Die. Like maybe they had a really sad disease or something and tragically wasted away in their bed while their loved ones looked on and they were buried in a lovely grave in the backyard."

And she thought falling off a balcony was a terrible thought. "That's really sad." Really, it had made me a little depressed.

She nodded. Suddenly we were in empathy. "I know. I'm sad, too. But it's not as disgusting as someone falling off a balcony and splattering to death all over the dusty stone I'm not allowed to sweep."

I was not sure if it were me, but it seemed that her voice rose a tad at the end of that last sentence, and she stared rather nastily at the Beast.

Silence for another good minute.

"Wouldn't you have to mop up the blood?" Mr. Maser asked. "With bleach? They actually have chemicals that are better for cleaning up blood, if you really wish to hide the fact that someone died there."

"Why are we having this conversation?" I asked.

He looked at me pointedly. "Miss Bryner, you are the one that began it."

"All I did was ask if the house were haunted. I didn't bring up the gore." Wait, I did.

And Mr. Maser was quick to point that out. "You're the one that mentioned someone falling off the balcony!"

The Beast seemed to think for a moment. "Was this person pushed, or was it suicide?"

That question got us all thinking as we ate our mysterious-but-delicious food. Well, at least the conversation was no longer silently awkward. Now it was just morbid awkward. I think it was better that way. At least we were talking.

"Well," Mr. Maser said thoughtfully. "I would probably commit suicide if I lived here."

I had been thinking that suicide would be far too sad and that a murder would be far more interesting anyway, but Mr. Maser's comment was just rude. I glared at him across the table. Boss or no boss, paycheck or no paycheck, he had no right to say that in front of my friend Susanna.

Who had just burst into tears.

Mr. Maser looked only faintly guilty.

The Beast clenched his teeth worriedly. Or fangs. Or whatever he had in his huge animal mouth. "Susanna?"

She already had her fancy blue silk napkin at her eyes, dabbing with all the ferocity of a true country girl. I grew up in a small town, it was all similar.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Susanna, don't listen to him. He's an idiot and he should apologize." I sent him another withering glare.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, but he looked even more guilty. "Susanna, I didn't mean it that way."

"I really like this place." Unlike some people, she could speak clearly while having hysterics. "I really do! I think it's pretty, Beast. Beautiful, even. I'm so happy to be living here away from my stupid sisters. I know I sometimes complain about the light, but the scones are kind of romantic and I know we sometimes light the hearth but… "

"It's okay," said the Beast uncomfortably. By the looks of things, he didn't really wasn't all that savvy about his crying girlfriend. Didn't he know a thing about taking a girl in his masculine, if extra-hairy, arms and comforting her, at least offering her a place to cry and feel safe and protected? Wasn't that his job as the man/animal in her life?

"Don't you care about the castle?" she accused. "Don't you care? You aren't upset that he said that?!"

The Beast shrugged. "It's Rowan's opinion."

"He insulted our home!" She lashed away from me toward the Beast and punched him in the arm. "You always do this! You—" She took a sudden and deep breath and sat back in her chair, face red with embarrassment. "Whoa. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. That was terrible of me. I'm such a bad hostess."

It was no time for manners! The poor girl had her feelings hurt!

I sent a final glare at Mr. Maser. "Apologize to both of them. Now."

"I'm sorry I insulted your castle." It was actually diplomatic in tone. Impressive. "It's nice in an evil witch kind of way."

I sent him a smile of approval.

"You didn't have to apologize," the Beast said.

The evil glare of death changed direction. The Beast may be my host, but this was ridiculous. He did not know how to appreciate his lovely girlfriend! "No, he needs to apologize if it makes Susanna feel better."

"I accept your apologize, by the way, Mr. Maser," Susanna said.

There. Everyone was happy except me.

"It's your job to keep her happy," I told the Beast. "She loves you and you ignore her."

His jaw dropped and I could see more of those awesomely sharp teeth. "I don't mean…"

Susanna sniffed and wiped her eyes. "She's right. Tansy's right. I do love you."

I gave him a told-you-so look.

His head dropped. It was like I had scolded him. I guess I had, actually. "I love you, too, Susanna."

Aww.

Mr. Maser muttered an "oh brother".

"I just don't like you cleaning my room with that lilac-scented stuff."

Susanna looked mortally offended. "But that stuff creates such a great aura—"

I held up my hand to her. Friend or no friend, she had to be fair as well. "Not everyone likes lilac. He's a guy, remember. Guys don't like nice smells."

She sighed. "Is there a smell you like?"

He shrugged. "No, not really."

She smiled faintly. "I actually don't like cleaning everything. Can't we hire a housekeeper?"

"That costs money and I'm a beast, if you haven't noticed."

"Teenagers don't mind. They come cheap."

"But it still costs money."

Susanna touched his paw. "It would help me out a lot, sweetie. Then we could spend more time together."

Wow. It was oddly romantic.

He sighed. "I can think about it."

And that was all it took. Talking. Worked every time. "Do you have anything else to say to each other?" I asked.

"I like your hair," the Beast said. "Did you get it done?"

Susanna giggled like the girly-girl she was.

"What is your name, by the way," I asked the Beast. It was a question I had always wanted to ask.

"I never say my real name," he replied.

"It's Mortimer," Susanna said.

"Hey!"

"I prefer to call him Beast."

Mr. Maser looked like he wanted to gag.


	18. Dances, Combs, and Other Girly Things

"So everyone at the house is talking about this ball."

My hand stopped midway through Cinder's sentence, the round brush caught in the tangle of her hair—she had of course managed to return to the Salon looking as if she had never met me but had lived with a pack of squirrels or however lived in stead. "Ball?" I echoed, and fervently and silently prayed that she was not referring to some Renaissance basketball.

Linda looked up in interest and probably the same thought. She was giving a perm to someone who strangely reminded me of Alice, of Wonderland.

"Ball," Cinder repeated with a jaunty nod before proceeding to assist me in her beautification by cleaning out the dirt from her nails with a pocket knife. "It's a huge dance thing, a party, at the royal palace."

Thank heaven she didn't think it was basketball.

I yanked out my brush and went back to attacking the snarls. Boy, she was going to need extreme conditioner. Was it so hard for her to stay good looking? Especially if she were going to a ball? Because at that moment I decided, possibly against her will, that she would be going. My brain was already working at it, imagining what color would look best against her skin. What kind of dress she would need. Her hair, her make-up… I realized my heart was pounding. "You're going, right?"

She flicked a bit of under-nail dirt onto our clean Salon floor. "I guess so. It sounds fun."

"You're going." It was a command.

She laughed and nodded. "All right. I figured you would say that. I can tell, Tansy, that you are not about to let me wiggle out of anything. So, yes, I am going unless I am able to escape."

I laughed. "You probably could."

Linda patted her belly. "I wish my husband would take me to a ball. But he can't even dial a babysitter."

"But your kids are so cute!" Cinder gushed. Linda kept pictures of the twins at her station.

"Thanks. Except I don't feel cute."

"Back to the ball," I said. I tossed my round brush onto the counter and prepared the sink. "Cinders, your hair disgusts me. It's so pretty when you do something with it."

"I tie it back. That keeps it out of my face. What else do you want me to do with it?"

"I did cute stuff with it last time. And I'm going to do it totally cute for the ball. That you will be attending. Gah, I need shampoo." I dashed to the closet to get some. Plus the extreme conditioner. My wand was ready. I was going to magic the snarls out of her horse's mane if I had to.

"I don't know if I can handle being cute all the time."

"I've seen girls who ride horses who look absolutely adorable!" Personally, I didn't think I would be able to pull off that English countryside saddle girl charm, but I admired those who could.

"I clean them before I ride them," she replied over the rushing water and the smell of rose shampoo. "And then I have to wash them again."

"So you never get yourself clean." She was impossible.

"I'll just get dirty again."

I squirted more shampoo onto her hair and began the massage. I loved the feel of the bubbles and the hair, even the greasy hair, under my skin. I had always been known for giving pretty decent head massages. "So tell me more about this ball. When will it be?" I half-wanted to invite Kendra as a girls' night out kind of thing, but she would probably freak for the worse.

Cinder bit her lip. "Uh… two weeks, almost, I think."

Hmm. That didn't give us much time. "In high school, we had a whole month to prepare. Do you have any dresses?" I regretted the question the moment it was out of my mouth. Look at the girl. Why would she own a dress?

"No," came the obvious answer.

"Mine are huge!" Linda called.

I didn't wear a lot of dresses myself, actually, come to think of it. But I did know when Dilliard's had their clearances…

"No, wait!" Cinder spat out a ball of bubbles she had accidentally inhaled. "I do. I mean, my mother had a dress. Not from her wedding, it was actually her garden party dress or something, but it's nice. It's in my chest underneath my second pair of boots and my sling-shot."

"You shouldn't fold dresses," Linda scolded.

I was more worried about the boots and the sling-shot. Who owned a sling-shot? Wasn't Cinderella supposed to have glass slippers or something? "Well, you are going to be stunning by then," I said cheerfully. "You are going to charm that prince and make him fall in love with you."

Cinder let out a sharp laugh that signified just how ridiculous she thought such an idea. "What?"

"The Prince. You are supposed to fall in love with the prince."

"What do I want a prince for?"

"Yikes," I muttered.

Linda nodded in agreement.

Fortunately by the time Cinder was out of there, she looked amazing. I had done her nails myself. And I had commanded her to bring by that dress. I wasn't exactly sure what the latest fashions were in Cinder's world… but who cared? Vintage was always cool. She was going to look fairy tale stunning, and hopefully she wouldn't roll in any mud.

I sent her on her way and began cleaning up. Linda was still working on Alice's perm. We closed in an hour, and Snow White was supposed to be dropping in for a trim soon.

"A ball," I said fondly. "I didn't think they really existed. I mean, now. Though I guess it's different for them. I've always wanted to go to one."

"I went to one a few years ago," Linda said. "Held by some queen or another. It was a lot of fun until witches started casting spells. And these were the good witches, mind you. You should go."

I used a Clorox wipe to go over my counter. "Are we allowed to go?"

"Sure. Mr. Maser has some kind of deal with the worlds. And usually the princesses like to invite us, sort of a payment thing. You should take Rowe."

Rowe? I hadn't even thought of him. Had I really been single that long to ponder girls' night out with Kendra? I blushed. "Oh, I can so see him in a tuxedo."

"He would be cute," Linda mused. "Thank goodness I'm married. Where is your Snow White?"

I glanced at the clock. "No idea. She'll show when she wants to. I mean, you've seen her."

Linda nodded, disgust written all over her face. "Believe me, she will be attending the ball."

I rolled my eyes. It was a horror story waiting to happen. "I cannot stand her! She would probably try to steal Cinder's prince."

"You're still aiming to get her that prince?"

I threw on my most dramatic smile. "Of course I am. I don't step down from a challenge! And she looks fantastic when she's clean."

"Who knows? Maybe the prince will be the outdoorsy type."

I finished cleaning and spun myself in the chair while Linda finished up Alice. The girl hadn't spoken a word, just stared off with a faint smile into Dreamland. Not all there, apparently. Wonderland. And then Linda was finally done primping the final golden curl in Alice's hair.

Snow White had still not made her appearance. Where was she? I couldn't imagine her hating me enough to skip out on a beautification ritual. She was addicted to herself enough.

"What do I do if they don't show?" I asked.

Linda shrugged. "I say whatever. Mr. Maser usually demands us go in and drag them out, but it doesn't really matter, it's up to them."

"Sounds good to me." But the Snow White story was flashing pell-mell through my mind. Still, I forced myself to grab my bag when Linda did so.

"I'd stop to chat," she said. "But I'm supposed to fix dinner tonight. I'll you tomorrow, Tansy." And with that she sprinted out the door as fast as she could, briefly waving at Mary as she passed the front desk.

Hmm. Mary. Maybe she would like to attend the ball. Fairies attended balls, didn't they? I threw my bag down on her desk. "Hey, Mary, do you want to go and do anything? Go get some dinner?"

For a split second she looked terrified that I had dared speak to her. But then a grin split her face apart. "That sounds like fun! I've recently discovered this awesome smoothie place…"

I laughed. "I would have never pegged you for a smoothie girl. I'll drive. Dude, I hope I have cash on me…" And that was when I realized that my wallet was not in my purse.

"You probably left it back in the Salon," Mary suggested. "I'll walk with you."

Sure enough, it was sitting on the floor underneath the counter. I must have knocked it over.

"You're taking so long!" Mary uncharacteristically teased. Healthy for her personality.

"You brat," I returned. "I apologize for having no memory, since you probably wiped it." I hoped it was all right to joke around with a half-fairy. "So if you're going to turn me into a frog or…" My voice trailed off. One of the doors was hanging ajar.

Snow White's door.

"I swear it was closed," I said. I glanced at Mary, who looked more than nervous.

"Those really aren't supposed to be left open," she whispered.

"Is it that serious?"

She nodded, lips tight.

I closed it. Problem solved. "It's just a door."

She sighed and locked eyes with me. "Tansy, in case you have not noticed, these are not normal doors. I know you think it's just hair and make-up, but these doors are very serious business. If it's open…"

"Snow White probably just came in late," I said. "She was supposed to have an appointment."

"I've worked here for a long time, Tansy." She was now speaking with more ferocity than I had ever heard from her. "I know this Snow White. We would have heard her yelling for us by now. Come on, let's check it out." And with that she marched past me, reopened the door, and marched into the sunlit morning forest. Morning already.

I followed her closely. The woods looked different in daylight. But I didn't seen anyone menacing, if that's what Mary was looking for. Just squirrels and birds and a fox that ran away from us when I screamed.

"Mary," I whined. "This is silly. I'm hungry."

But the half-fairy just shook her head and kept marching along the trail until I could see Snow White's cottage in the distance.

Nothing seemed wrong. It hadn't burned down, blood was not smeared anywhere, no signs of a bomb, just…

Snow White's limp form outside the door. I screamed again.

It was her, wearing an elegant pink dress that was now covered in dirt. Her loose hair lay around her head like spilled ink, and her eyes were closed. Still.

"Is she dead?" I asked. No, wait. I knew the story. Snow White never died.

Mary shook her head and bent over her. "She's breathing, faintly. I can't believe this happened already."

"The story coming to life," I murmured. I sat down beside the girl and tried to remember if I had ever learned first aid.

"Exactly," Mary said. "That's what happens around here. Now to see if it's that damned corset or the…"

"Comb," I finished. I had already found it, nestled right in her scalp. Someone wasn't very good at inserting a comb. I pulled it out. It was pretty, made of jade and carved like water. And the tips were sprinkled in head blood. Eww.

"Poisoned comb," Mary said with a faint smile. "A classic. Probably would be fine if they wouldn't jab it in so tight. It's not good. Another hour or so and she would have been dead."

"You certainly know a lot about this stuff."

The smile went deeper and shyer. "Yes, well, it comes with the job. You'll figure it out, too. Besides the magic, it's smart to know your poisons and the basic ways of killing someone. I mean, some of this stuff is really scary. I'm just glad we found her before all of those stupid dwarves. What should we do with her now?"

I assumed the door was open. "I dunno. Take her inside and dump her on a couch?" It wasn't exactly congenial, but she was a brat.

Mary shrugged. "Sounds as good as anything."

Despite her height and curves, Snow White was, of course, as light as anything, even to decrease the burden of two girls carrying her sorry butt into the cottage. As for the cottage, it was actually pretty cute in a country sort of way. I was sure Kendra would be able to glean many an idea from it. I assumed Snow White had decorated it, because no male would put flowers in painted vases. There was no couch, but there was a pile of furs which I figured suit the purpose. Color was returning to her cheeks, and she even muttered something about ponies when we set her down.

Mary wiped her hands in a finishing sort of way. "Okay, we've dealt with that."

"Now for smoothies?"

"Sure. But I still don't know why the door was open."

I didn't care to think about it. "Maybe she was feeling woozy from the poisoned comb but was able to stagger to the Salon, didn't feel well enough to yell at us, and almost made it back to the cottage."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "I guess… that's plausible. Or maybe Brittany left it open. She's an airhead."

Wow. "I'm proud of you. I can't believe you just insulted someone."

"Why? Don't you like Brittany?"

"I adore Brittany. Brittany is a doll. But you!" I squeezed her shoulder. "You aren't being this little mouse!"

"Thanks, I guess."

We trotted outside and down the path towards the door. I was enjoying the morning sunshine, probably much nicer than the dusk back in our world.

"Maybe we should have a picnic," Mary suggested.

"Here?"

"Why not?"

"Today?"

She laughed. "I don't want to plan for that."

"We could make it a double-date," I said. "I'll ask Rowe, and you can take Michael."

"Michael?" Her face went red.

I sighed and shook my head. "I think you like him, Mary. And I bet he likes you, too. You're very cute."

"Tansy, I'm a half-fairy, I don't have time to—"

Something snapped behind us. Before I could look back a thread-thin line of what looked like white fire jumped up around us. For the third time I screamed, as did Mary. Squirrels scattered as the flames leaped as high as our heads.

"So easy to trap," a voice murmured. "Too easy."

I turned around.

Standing about ten feet from the circle of flames was Rowe. Smiling.


	19. Betrayal

For one very odd moment my heart just about leapt for joy, a clear result of reading far too many fairy tales. Rowe was here! My hero! He was going to free us from this very freaky white fire thing, even more so than Mary with all her magic.

And then I noticed the look on his face and remembered his menacing words about the trap.

Next to me, Mary swore.

"Not nice words," Rowe said, shaking his head. "I had always thought better of you, Miss Cromwell. My father always enjoyed working with you. Apparently you weren't smart enough to stay out of my little trap for you. I would have expected that carelessness of Tansy, but not you, Mary. Not you."

Why did this always happen to me? Could I not find a guy I could be with? I screamed and rushed at the fire. There was no heat, but I still stopped before I actually touched the white flames. "Rowe!" I shouted. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, but his awful smile did not fade away. It was a strange smile. He was Rowe. He always looked so sweet and harmless. My redheaded teddy bear. That nasty sneer did not suit him one little bit. "And to think you fell for me. Silly little Tansy. I admit, you are very pretty and a wonderful kisser. We had some good times. I'm also glad you're not any smarter than you are."

I felt frustration setting in. A bunch of flames had circled us while we were walking through the enchanted woods. For what did he expect us to look out? Were there gas releases underneath the dirt and grass? I think the dwarves would have noticed by now. "You are an idiot!" Not my best insult, but at least it took away some of the hate I felt.

Next to me, Mary was silent. Her eyes were closed.

Rowe came closer. "Don't worry, Tansy. It's nothing personal. It's not about you at all."

I wanted to cry, and part of it was out of confusion. "Then who is it about?"

"Mary, mostly. You just happened to be with her at the time. I knew you were getting chummy, and I was sure one of you would notice that the door to this story was open."

"You have Snow White the comb!" I gasped. "I thought that was the Evil Queen's job."

He shrugged. "It is. But the stories vary. And it just so happens that in this one I work for the Evil Queen. She's actually a very nice lady."

"Evil queens are never nice," Mary snapped.

"Oh, what do you know?" Rowe said, rolling his eyes. "You're the one that made Sleeping Beauty fall asleep for a century."

Mary's eyes went just about red. "Shut up. That was a long time ago."

"I know, I know," Rowe said. He waltzed back and forth, enjoying the sunlight on his skin. So much for the vampire theory. "But some people never forget. Which I guess some might view as a sin, but that is how human and fey natures alike go."

What was he getting at?

"I couldn't capture you in the other world, Mary. I had to wait until you were in the Evil Queen's domain."

"Snow White's story," I said softly.

Rowe nodded. "Snow White's story. You see, the Evil Queen here is the same fairy that tried to kill Sleeping Beauty. Needed to kill Sleeping Beauty."

"Why did she even need to kill her?" Mary asked softly.

"Because…" Rowe stopped and smiled. "It's none of your concern, is it? I've been in Tansy's world long enough to see plenty of consequences via all those movies as to what happens when plans are revealed."

I silently cursed all the superhero movies I enjoyed.

"Let's just say she wants revenge."

"You could have killed us now!" I said. It was too much and I was furious. How dare Rowe betray me like this?

"I need to bring Mary in and I don't feel like killing you."

If he didn't want to kill me then… I shook that thought away. No, he was a horrible boyfriend. But there had to be something I could do if he wasn't going to kill us.

The fire was rising higher and moving in closer. I could imagine the separate flames joining together at the top like a cage.

And then Mary grabbed my arm. "Hold your breath," she commanded in a whisper.

"Don't even—" Rowe began.

It was like being in the middle of a nuclear explosion. One minute we were in the sunny woods in a cage of white fire and the next I was surrounded by green and grey clouds. And I was being pulled, Mary's fingernails digging like knives into my wrist, running after her away from wherever Rowe was now.

I opened my mouth to say something, then quickly shut it. The clouds tasted like poison. They probably were. I already felt sick. Crap, I was going to die.

"Keep going!" Mary hissed. She was like a human, or half-fairy, bullet through trees and clouds. "We're almost there!"

Almost where? And how could she be so sure? All I could see was a dizzying blend of green and grey that kept spinning and spinning and…

"Tansy!" Mary shrieked.

My eyes closed just as I saw the outline of a mist-covered door open and close around me. Immediately the air was clear, and I felt the familiar Salon floor beneath me. I gasped for breath and began to choke.

"I'm so sorry!" I was being yanked back to my feet and dragged again. Everything was still spinning. I just wanted to fall somewhere and sleep. Another door opened and something wet hit my face. I fell to sharp, hard rock, and more wet-cold hit my face. Soaking me.

"Pearl!" Mary's voice screamed. "Pearl, where are you?"

Wasn't Pearl Linda's mermaid? I groggily breathed in the moist, salty air.

There was a splash. It sounded so distant. "Who are you?"

"For crying out loud, it's me! Mary Cromwell! I need a favor!"

"Is she sick?"

"She inhaled reyak dust. I warned to hold her breath."

"Isn't reyak dust…"  
"Yes, Pearl. Yes. Could you just…"

"Of course!" A giggle followed, and then I felt the coldest, wettest, most jolting lips being pressed against my forehead, just as I was about to pass out.

Right away I sat up, totally awake, gasping for air like I had never tasted oxygen before.

"She's all right!" Pearl the 80's punk mermaid exclaimed happily.

"Oh, heavens, Tansy, I was so worried!" Mary was sitting next to me, her arm around my shoulder, hugging me. "I'm so sorry. I told you to hold your breath."

I choked up water I had accidentally took in while they had splashed me. "I didn't think it was so serious. You could have told me to hold my breath at the pain of death." I returned the hug. My crazy, wonderful half-fairy friend.

"It was the only way I could think of to get us away from that monster."

Rowe. The memory came back, and I groaned.

"Tansy, I am so sorry." She helped me to my feet.

"It's okay," I muttered. The boulder in the middle of the ocean was so unsteady. "It's just my own bad luck. Though admittedly he was the worst one yet. And I wasn't quite yet attached to him. I just… just really liked him." I spoke the truth. My heart had gone girl-power on me and was not broken. "How did you make me better?"

Mary gestured at the beaming Pearl, who was flapping her tail against the rock. Pearl waved, most air-headedly enough. "Mermaid kisses have the power of healing."

"Not on the lips?" I asked.

"Doesn't have to be."

"And I only like boys," Pearl said with a giggle.

"Good to hear," I said. How weird. "I'm the same way."

"Well, Pearl," said Mary. "Thank-you so much."

"No problem!" She flipped her tail and dove underneath the water, and we wandered back into the Salon.

I immediately dropped into the nearest seat and gave a good loud scream. Mary flopped into the next one, and I realized with much guilt that this concerned her more than it did me. "I can't believe these people want you captured."

She shook her head, her hands cupped over her mouth. "Neither can I." Her voice was muffled. "It was six centuries ago. I thought it was over and done with. I didn't think it was such a big deal. Besides what happened to Sleeping Beauty."

I sighed. "I am so sorry."

"No, I'm the one that nearly got you killed."

"Truce, then?"

She put her hands down and smiled. "Truce."

We pinky-swore on it.

"Do you still want smoothies?" I asked.

"I think we deserve it."

We grabbed our purses and headed for the door. It was very, very strange, I admit, but I really, really wanted a smoothie. A large one.

But the moment we opened the door, someone was waiting.

Rowe.

Mary screamed. I just froze.

He stared at us in absolute confusion.

Faker. Good thing I kept mace in my purse. I pulled it out and aimed it at him.

The confusion just heightened in his face. I wanted Mary to put another spell at him. "Tansy, what is going on?"

"You were the one that refused to answer that question," I hissed.

He pointed toward the door. "I… I noticed both you and Mary still had your cars parked outside, so I thought I would see if everything was all right. And apparently it's not."

"Darn right." I still held out the mace. If he approached me.

"What is going on?" he asked again.

I thought I was going to cry. I already knew that my mascara was a mess. "You… you were in Snow White's world. You captured us, Mary and me. You were going to kill us!"

"Kill you?" Something flashed over his eyes. More confusion. Did he really not know what he had just done.

"You're working for an evil queen fairy!" I screeched.

"I can't believe I ever trusted you," Mary said.

He shook his head. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Back through the Salon! The doors! Snow White!" How obvious did I have to make it?

"That's impossible!" Now he was properly emotional. "I can't go through those doors!"

I lowered my can of mace. "What?" Mary grasped my shoulder.

He took a deep breath. His face was red. 'I can't go through those doors," he said, much more softly. "I don't know who you saw, but it wasn't me. I can't go through those doors. Never."

I bit my lip.

"What time of day was it there? Daylight or night?"

"Daylight," I murmured. Tears were at my eyes now. I had never been more terrified. What was I thinking? The man had made fire pop from the ground and I wanted to spray stuff in his eyes.

"I can't be in daylight."

"This seems a little too convenient," Mary said.

"Only because you are making it convenient, Mary!" He was begging now. "You have to believe me. I can help if you would let me."

"How can I trust you?" I asked.

"You just have to." He sighed. "Tansy, it's me. You know me."

"We've only been on a few dates," I retorted.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "What if I told you my curse?"

"Your curse?" For all I knew he would just make something up. Then again, it might explain what was going on.

"We'll go somewhere. In here. And I'll explain everything."

I looked at Mary. For some reason I wanted her to give me the answer. She shook her head. "It's too dangerous."

"But he's only after you." Was I deciding I did not want Mary's answer?

"Don't."

I raised my can of mace. "And I have my wand. I'll be careful."

With that, I allowed Rowe to lead me into his father's office.


	20. The Same

It didn't seem like Mr. Maser's office. I'm sure that was due to some psychological blahblah about the situation, but even so it felt like I was walking into another world. And after all I had been through that had better not be the case or I would scream. That was all I needed, another world that would bar its exit. I touched the messy old desk for reassurance. It was cheap balsawood. No fantasy world would have balsawood. My hand remained on the desk's edge as a lasso from Rowe. He made his way to the back of the room. Smart of him to stay as far from me as possible.

Good grief, I was trapped in a room with a potential murderer. It did not manage how far he was from me. Crap, what had I gotten myself into? Just because he had originally been after Mary I felt I had the privilege to waltz right in here. Yes, I was an absolute wreck inside and my make-up was a mess on the outside. But I was going to lay it cool. Oh, yes. So I pretended that my hair look decent and adjusted it to its full perfection—were it there. "So," I said as coolly as I could. "What's going on?"

"Promise you won't pepper spray me?" He had the nerve to stick in a smile with that. I frowned. No smile was going to turn me around. For the first time I saw him for what he was, a too-tall chubby guy with clashing red hair. Not macho and manly at all. For what had I fallen?

I sighed. Well, I now had confidence on my side. "You're safe. Just don't try any freaky magic spells."

"I don't know any magic spells."

He really was pathetic. I fought the urge to smile. It did not seem appropriate to laugh at someone during this kind of thing. I kept my gaze steady. "Is that so? I was pretty sure I saw some hefty magic back there in Snow White land." So what if my tone was a little flippant?

He rolled his eyes. "For crying out loud, that was not me back there, wherever!"

"It looked like you!" I quickly glanced over the desk for something to chuck at him. Mr. Maser did not keep so much as a tacky paperweight.

"And you should know well enough that looks don't matter here."

I was not interested in another debate about the art of beauty. I gritted my teeth and dug into the cheap balsawood. Really, I had nothing against balsawood. "Then explain what is going on! What is your curse?" It was like asking for a werewolf to chomp off my head.

But there was no bloodshed. Instead, Rowe ripped open a drawer of his father's desk. For one split second I imagined myself in a Mary Higgins Clark novel, about to be blown to kingdom-come by a hidden handgun. How could I have fallen for this? For that split-second my life flashed before my eyes and I knew that I was going to look hideous for the coroner.

A heavy book thudded to the desktop.

Maybe the gun was hidden inside the book. I had to admit, I had always thought it would be pretty cool to hollow out a book. And it wasn't just any book. It was the kind of book I happily would have put on my shelf. It was old, thick, and gorgeous.

It was a book of a fairy tales.

One of those older editions, all fancily made and the like, the kind I would have taken equal turns to parade about and hide from my friends who would have thought a fairy tale obsession was silly. And to think that someone kept a gun in it. I pushed the thought away. Anyone who would destroy that gorgeous book to hide a gun should be shot with the thing already. Boy, I had to get the gun idea out of my head. So I stared at the book a long while, during which Rowe just stood there. Did not perform evil magic. Did not shoot me. Did not even talk. He just stood there.

"I don't get it," I finally said. "What kind of curse is this?"

"They're real. Fairy tales. They really happened. They still happen."

I nodded. Like I did not yet comprehend that. "So?"

He turned the book to him and flipped through the pages. "There is a story theme. It happens in countless tales. Transformation. Remember the Beast? Things like that. Bluebirds, other animals, people get turned into things." He slammed the book shut. "Tansy, this is me. Right here in front of you."

"Then who was that back there in Snow White land?"

"This has been me for centuries."

His eyes locked with mine. I couldn't move. "What?"

"A long time ago... a really long time ago, I... sort of dated this a fairy. And then when my father wanted me to marry this mortal princess, well, I sort of rejected the fairy. And now I can only look like this at night."

The door shook. Mary. "Tansy, are you still alive?!"

"I'm fine!" I called, wondering if I should ask her to call the police or at least burst in here and use some more fairy powers. I glared at Rowe. "I want out."

He glared back. I had a good feeling we would not be going on another date. But the nasty look gave way to a sigh. "Oh, wow. I really don't know how to explain this. You know my father?"

A horrible idea blasted into my mind, one that left me sick. I had never seen Rowe or Mr. Maser together. "Please tell me he's your father and not you."

Silence.

"You..." I shook my head and threw my hands into the air. "You what? You just pretend to have a dad? You all along?"

"Only the past few decades. I'm forced into different hideous day storms during the day. I figured the ruse would work."

"Yeah, well, it's disgusting and confusing!"

"You beauticians really are shallow." His voice was bitter as he spoke. "It's a pretty miserable life."

"I'm not the shallow fairy that cast the spell. And you're lying."

"What about all the suicides in the Beast's castle?"

I felt sick. I wanted out. "It still doesn't explain who attacked us." With that, I left the room.


	21. Plans With No Ends

_Sorry about the lateness of this! It has been an incredibly busy past month, combined with a tiredness that made me just too darn lazy to write! But here it is!_

* * *

I don't care what people say about the healing powers of ice cream and other samples of junk food. When it came to stress, there was nothing like a pure-fruit, sugar-free smoothie, and I was guzzling mine to well past brain freeze.

"It's quite a plausible spell," Mary told me as she delicately sipped on her smoothie. It was a treat that seemed perfect for her. A dainty fairy embellishing in fruit. "I've seen crazier. Heard of craziest."

Well, of course anyone could demonstrate a heck of a lot more imagination. I raised an eyebrow and forced the ice-covered straw from my mouth. I felt utterly trashy, curled up on the cracked vinyl seat of the shop. "Yes, but is it true? You have worked with Mr. Maser for years. Shouldn't you know?"

She shrugged and flipped back some of her hair. "I'm not… I'm sorry, I'm not much help here. My association with Rowan Maser is strictly professional. I just know he had this son and, well, that was pretty much it. I mean, they're nice enough, both of them. One of them."

"Nice?" It was a word I wanted to scream into the heavens. "Mary, I like to consider myself a nice person. I come from a small town. I've been the queen of dances. I try not to mean to people that don't deserve it and I think I'm pretty good at that. I just want to make people look nice. You're a nice person. The girls are very nice people, most of them. Nice people do not try to kill you. Nice people don't lie to you!"

She blinked at me and took another loud sip of smoothie. The half-fairy had been transformed into a deer-in-the-headlights. Wasn't she the one who had been threatened within an inch of her virtually immortal life? "Are you more concerned about someone trying to kill us or kissing an old guy?"

I sighed. My smoothie was almost gone save for a few remaining pomegranate clumps around the base. "Mary, Mary!" Quite contrary. "Think! Rowe-- whoever that was—talked about Sleeping Beauty. You were the fairy who dealt with her. Can you think of any good reason why anyone would need her dead?"

"I really didn't know much of the royal family's lives other than the curse." She squeezed her eyes shut in thought. "Tansy, that was centuries ago! How am I supposed to remember anything? Sleeping Beauty is long dead!"

"What about through the Salon doors?"

She opened her eyes and now looked at me as if I were the stupid one. "Tansy, didn't Mr. Maser explain it to you? We have all these fairy tales in this world and you all assume it's the same person just because the title of the story says so. Sleeping Beauty, the one I cursed, is dead. She lived until she was like a hundred or something and died of complications after she tripped and broke her hip. She and the prince had about nine kids. One took over the kingdom, a couple of the girls married a few other princes, and I think one of them went Croatoan out of society. I don't know what happened after that."

So much for playing Kinsey Milhone. I sighed and considered getting another smoothie. "Apprently it was a pretty important reason if she's still after you. I don't get you. How come you don't intend on doing anything?"

She shrugged. "I really don't know what I should do. This is pretty much the main detail of my banishment. I help Mr. Maser run the shop. I'm a receptionist. I'm pretty much invisible. I think it's very sweet that you are trying to help me, Tansy, but I really don't know what else to do. No one has ever come after me like this before." A tiny smile crept out, and I wondered how she would look with some dramatically dark lipstick. "It's kind of exciting."

I found myself smiling as well. "You do have a point there. I haven't worked here very long and I'm already certifiably crazy."

"You're not crazy. You're just involved. So what about Rowe? Rowan? Mr. Maser? Whoever he is?"

That was the one thing I did not want to think about. My smile immediately vanished. "Why did you bring him up?"

"I was thinking we were right around that topic with the way this discussion was going. Rowe, or someone who looked like him, is clearly involved with everything."

A bitty fire began to burn within me, and it was not the romantically passionate kind. It was the kind that wanted to rage and burn things Carrie-style. "I have absolutely no idea whatsoever, Mary. What am I supposed to think of that story?"

"I told you already it's a plausible spell. Isn't it interesting how this conversation has come full circle?"

Great. Now the mouse had learned how to make fun of me. Good for her. I would have been proud if I had not been in the center of confusion. I dragged my hands down my face and gave a muffled, tight-lipped scream. "I hate men."

Mary murmured her agreement. "I'm just glad I'm not in your shoes."

"Thank-you." Not with the correct feeling.

"Should we go back to me?" she continued, "Or should we keep talking about you and Rowe?"

"The former."

"I think I have an idea."

I sighed again and looked at her. In the short time I had known her I had never quite imagined her as the type to have a plan. But there she was, smiling broadly and secretively like she was the cleverest little half-fairy to set foot on the planet. "Shoot."

"Well," she began innocently enough. "You heard about the ball, right?"

"Cinder's?"

"Yes. I think we should go. I'll talk to Mr. Maser about it."

"Rowe," I said automatically, though I still could not connect the two men I had seen in my mind. A spell that made one age thirty years?

"Yes, if we can trust him even though I already told you it's a very plausible spell."

"And I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk about Rowe," I said.

"We're not talking about Rowe." She took another noisy sip. "I am merely talking about the man who bosses us all around, not some cursed prince."

"But we can't even trust him."

I don't think she was used to not being told what to do. "Then... we'll go anyway. If he's in league with our villainess, well, we'll get him at this time."

I stared at her. "Wow."

"What?"

"Assertid. Or assertive. I can't remember the world. That whole Type A thing."

"What about it?" She was back to her characteristic terror-filled face.

"You're showing it. I think I like it on you."

She blushed. "Thank-you."

"You can return to what you were saying. About the ball. Because I think it sounds like a lot of fun but I can't imagine what it has to do with anything. But it does sound promising, so you keep going."

So Mary did. "All I am trying to say is that fairies are pretty much automatically attracted to large groups of people. We like balls and christenings and all the like. At least we are supposed to."

"It sounds so stereotyped."

She rolled her eyes. "That's pretty much the best way to describe it."

I raised a finger. "Question. So we have everyone at the ball, and the Evil Queen or fairy shows up. What are we going to do then?"

"I only came up with this plan a few minutes ago. I think we have enough time to later figure out the details."

I considered it. Half a plan sounded good enough to me. "What about the rest of the girls? Are you the only fairy we have?"

"As far as I know, it's just me. But Linda is pretty smart. I'm sure she could help."

"If we knew what we were doing," I pointed out.

Mary sighed and slammed her head down onto the tabletop. "I'm so sorry. I'm just making this up as I go. I've never had someone sneak after me before like this."

I patted her head. "You are doing fine."

Then I considered it. This was Cinder's ball. We were plotting to do something to a wicked fairy who possibly taught me everything I knew about beauty at her ball. Her one chance to be properly gorgeous and to hopefully impress some prince. I knew I should feel more stressed than I did. Or maybe it was some sort of safety mechanism that had been put into me at birth. I had to do the only thing I knew at which I could be good. "What are you going to wear?" I asked.

She lifted her head. "What?"

"What are you going to wear?"

"Tansy, why do you want to know what I'm going to wear?"

How oblivious could she be? "We're going to a ball. A royal ball. You need something nice. And I'll do your hair for you. You'll look stunning."

She was continuing to look at me like I was insane. "I'm going to have a date for you."

"Who?"

"Michael."

The insanity accusation increased. 'Tansy, I can't date your ex!"

"Sure you can. He's my ex, I'm offering him to you, and he's a perfectly nice man. We just did not fit as soul mates go."

"You want me to go to the ball with Michael?"

Ah, she was finally coming around. "Exactly. You will take him and he will protect you if anything horrible goes wrong with the plan we have not yet created. Please do not try to pretend I haven't seen the chemistry between you two. You would be adorable together."

I think she was trying to hide it, but there was definitely a smile there. "What about you?" she asked. "Who will take you?"

I froze. How dare she turn this around on me. "I still have time to find someone." Strangely enough my first thought was Rowe. He would have been a marvelous escort. But no, he had to turn about to be another form of my boss! One little confession ruined. And my boss was probably a murderer. "I don't need an escort anyway," I continued. "I'm a fairy godmother."

Mary just smiled.

I shook my head. "When did my life turn so nuts?"

She shrugged.

* * *

It was incredibly late when I finally returned home to my apartment. My lovely, repaired, and cleaned apartment. I stood a moment in the doorway, surveying the complete lack of damage. It was a good feeling. It was almost as if no one had ever ransacked the place in search of nothing before. I flung my purse onto the couch and debated my next step. I had work in the morning and after an evening like the one I had just had sleep was what I needed. But I didn't feel like sleep quite yet. I wanted to pour lavender bubbles into the bathtub until the water ran onto the floor. I wanted to lounge in that until I drowned or had some sort of near-death experience. But sleep was probably healthier. Neither mattered, though. The red light of my answering machine was blinking away like that creepy computer from that old space movie on the fritz.

I think I knew who had left a message, but I wanted to pretend it was my mother or Kendra or someone half-way normal. I would even accept Michael, as I clearly had to talk to him at some point about his date with Mary. I took a deep breath and forced my way to the machine to release the messages.

Yep. Rowe. Or Rowan. Or Mr. Maser. The person I did not want to think about.

The message was short, brief, and obnoxiously to the point. "Please, Tansy. Consider what I said and believe me. Good night."

I deleted the message. My heart was pounding enough to break my ribs. I didn't want to think about Rowe or Mr. Maser or anything about his supposed curse.

He was a liar, I suddenly decided. He was a crazy-insane liar who wanted nothing more than to make my life miserable and kill Mary or something. I couldn't trust him. For all I knew he wasn't even related to Mr. Maser. Just because I had never seen them together. He was some guy who had convinced everyone of his goodness enough to climb into a beauty salon and terrorize the world. And yes, what I had just thought was the epitome of insanity. Or Mr. Maser himself was evil as well and was allowing all of this chaos to reign for some unknown purpose.

I went for the bath. I needed that relaxation.

Really, when had my world become so wild?

* * *

Everything looked better in the morning. Why do things work out that way? Or maybe I was just a pathetic creature of habit who was much too involved in her work. Either way, I hopped into my little Cavalier and drove to work, the idea of running into Mr. Maser forced out of my mind. I greeted Mary at her desk like nothing out of the ordinary had happened the day before. I readied my station for the day and imagined things for my customers. I chatted with Linda and Alexis, only partially wondering if they would be willing to do something utterly insane for Cinder's ball.

Mr. Maser never appeared.

I also wondered if Snow White would make any kind of appearance. How long was she supposed to be asleep?

I succeeded in not thinking about anything important.

Snow White did not show up, but first on my list was Princess Deanna, the chubby little thing wallowing in the mist of depression. Ah, a challenge. My one-track mind was ready for this. I was going to deal with her. I was going to change her life. Inside my heart was weeping in a mix of excitement and my own depression. But I could do this.

Princess Deanne looked, of course, miserable. "I've had the worst day," she began.

"I don't want to hear about it," I sang, motioning her into the chair.

"I just want a—"

I help up a finger, silencing her. "Shush. Deanne, you are going go through exactly whatever I want you to go through today, okay? Got it?"

The poor thing nodded. She looked terrified. Good.

I pulled out the necessary shampoo and conditioner bottles and prepared the sink for a hair wash. Good way to start the morning. "First, I want you to tell me one good thing that happened today."

"I guess the sunset was kind of nice."

"Hooray!" I paused to give a quick applause. "Wonderful to hear that. Anything else?" I did not give her time to respond as I shoved her underneath the faucet. I was going to give her highlights, I decided. Nice, dark, dramatic red highlights. And some blond ones. I was going to give her a completely different look. No, red would be too dramatic. But blonde would work. And some light brown. She would be lovely.

"Deanna," I told her awhile later as I prepared the hair color. "I have an idea for you."  
"Huh?" I think she was officially traumatized of me.

"How would you like to go to a real royal ball?"

"I can't dance."

"Neither can most men. You'll be fine."

She shook her head. "I can't go to a ball."

"You will." I grabbed the foil and began the highlights. "You will go. You will talk to men. You will flirt. You will have fun. And you will lose some weight before you go."

"I can't lose weight."

I laughed. "Sure you can. And if you can't, there is always control-top pantyhose."

She did not reply. I watched her carefully as I worked, unable to fully understand her expression. I could not decide if she were pouting, crying, or just thinking.

Finally, about midway through her extreme haircut (I was taking off a good foot) she said "Tansy, you are incredibly nice."

"Thank-you. I promise, you are going to look fabulous at the ball. When I am done with the scissors, I want you to pay extra attention to how I am styling your hair."

Then there was the make-up. A tweeze-off of half her eyebrows revealed some chocolate brown eyes. Stunning. "Look!" I squealed. "Look what you have! Gorgeous eyes!"

"Really?" she said shyly.

"Really. You just need mascara…"

It was a proud, proud moment when I finally let her out of the chair. Princess Deanna really did look nice. Hopefully that would brighten her mood.

"Next time you see me," I said as she left, "I want a list of ten happy things."

"All right," she said dutifully.

I turned back to my station to clean up. Mr. Maser stood in the doorway, watching me.

I stopped, every detail of the night before returning. "Yes."

"Nothing, Miss Bryner," he said softly. "Nothing at all." He turned.

Something inside of me snapped. I was sick of this. This place was full of mysteries and I was expected to participate without any idea of what was going on. I charged out of the Salon, ready to yell at my boss.

But there was not a single sign of him.


	22. Best Friends

I was in no better mood when I returned home that night. I had skipped out on Wendy's for the much healthier Subway sandwich (that whole health campaign thing was getting to me) and I was ready to see when a bunch of jalapeno peppers would do for my mood. Turn me into a fire-breathing dragon? Nothing surprised me much anymore. Mr. Maser had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth that day and no one, including Mary, had any idea where he was. Someone suggested naively that he was giving a presentation at a high school. What a wonderful way to scare young and impressionable girls out of the art of beauty. Frankly, I doubted it. His disappearing act had set me in a worse mood than Princess Deanna.

The light was on when I opened the door. Kendra sat on my couch, which had a brand-new slipcover upon it.

"Kendra?"

She smiled. "I have tickets."

I tried to smile back. "I like the new slipcover. Who are the tickets?"

"Rascal Flatts. You know you want them."

Ooh, it was certainly a temptation to break me out of my current mood. "I do love Rascal Flatts. You are my best friend forever."

She tilted her head to the side with a beaming grin that screamed she knew. "Tansy, darling, you seem to be in a funk."

I put a finger to my head in imitation of a gun, not to make light of suicide. "I have an incredibly weird life." Suddenly I had an urge to spill out everything to her. No, she would not believe me.

"Subway," she observed. "You're eating healthy. I thought you were the woman with super-metabolism."

"I don't risk it. And the veggies sounded helpful. Peaceful."

"Just don't make me do yoga."

"I actually find yoga fun!" I set the food on the counter and pulled out a real plate. "Thanks for being here."

"I'm afraid to leave you alone since the break-in," Kendra said. "And lately, you have been so strange. Since this new job. Tansy, I have not even been over to watch you! You are supposed to set me up with a free manicure or something."

I groaned and plopped down next to her, minus my sandwich. "Sweetie, I can give you a manicure and a pedicure and a facial and anything else you want! I have all the junk for it in the closet!"

She slapped me on the leg. "I'm kidding. I'm here for you."

"And I thank you for it. You are wonderful."

She put a pillow in her lap and squeezed it. "So tell me, then. What is going on? If you keep it all in your head will explode."

I did not want my head to explode. "You will never, ever believe me on this."

"Try me."

I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Was there any way to make the story sound believable? No, probably not. "If you are my best friend like you say you are, you must promise to believe me."

She held up her hand. "Scout's Honor."

"Were you in Girl Scouts?"

"No."

I rolled my eyes. A giggle had almost considered coming out. "And if you find it that impossible to believe what I say, at least promise not to call the guys in the white coats or whatever."

"I promise. Spill."

I took a deep breath. "Kendra, my name is Tansy and I am a fairy godmother."

Her dark eyes stared at me. "What?"

"I'm a fairy godmother."

And before I knew it the entire story had spilled out. In the beginning, I had not planned to tell everything. Heck, I had originally planned to tell her nothing. But as the miniscule details of the Salon and the girls and Mr. Maser flowed out there came the drama of Rowe and Mary and even Monica. Monica was the part that seemed to surprise Kendra the most. I must admit, Kendra was an excellent listener. Probably because she was too confused to interrupt.

When I was finished, I laid back, heart pounding. My sandwich sounded really, really good right then, but I would probably puke if I tried to eat it. I had just did the craziest thing I had ever done after entering this entire crazy life. I had told someone normal.

"Wow," Kendra said softly. "Wow."

I nodded. "I swear it's true. I know it sounds made-up but…."

"Tansy, you don't make stuff up. I know you don't. So…" She shook her had. "This is insane. Do you have any proof?"

I thought for a moment. My supply bag was next to the door. "My wand is in there," I said, pointing.

"How am I supposed to believe a little stick is a wand?" Kendra said. The "duh" thing, of course.

"It will do magic," I replied. I pulled myself up from the couch and walked over to the bag. After some rummaging I found the wand, smooth and powerful and, well, boring. Was it proof? I barely knew what to do with it?

It could be like Harry Potter. I squeezed my eyes shut and flicked the wand about. My hair suddenly rearranged itself.

Kendra jumped to her feet. "You were telling the truth!"

I nodded. Now I was smiling. "Some friend you are for not believing me."

"I know. I'm sorry. I shall do penance. Could I see?"

I hung back. "I don't think I should…"

"It does hair. What harm can I do beyond split ends?" She reached for it like a greedy child.

"Just be careful," I said.

It was the dumbest thing I had ever done, except I did not know so at the time. All I knew is at the moment Kendra touched the stupid wand she was out the door, only calling a distinct "I'm sorry!" to follow.

For one weird moment I thought she was joking. So I ran after her, shrieking her name like we were at recess in the fourth grade. But I could hear her pumps pounding down the stairs.

"Kendra!" I screamed.

She rounded a corner into the parking lot, and I slid behind her. I was not used to running. Kendra was a little more athletic than I and I still was not sure of what was happening.

But she jumped into her PT Cruiser and was off. I stood there in the parking lot.

What the heck had just happened?


	23. Fiardiltia's Request

_Resurrecting another one! Short chapter, but my current focus was to change the Rowe story._

* * *

I had known Kendra for several years and while she exuded the necessary quirkiness of any artist stealing something from a friend and running off with it was quite beyond her. The worst of explanations whirled through my thoughts. Finally I was back upstairs, where my hand found my phone and I dialed her number. Repetitively.

There was her message over and over again. Ringing in my ears followed by her snappy little message. I fell back onto the couch. What was the big deal? What was a decorator going to do with a magic wand? I barely knew what do with one.

I should have followed her. I should have jumped in my Cavy and followed her. That sounded reasonable enough protocol for when someone steals one's magic wand.

It was a prank, though. No need to rush to desperate measures. A little prank and soon she would be right back. But what would a magic wand unleashed into the world do? What would Mr. Maser say?

Oh, wait. I no longer cared what Mr. Maser said. Whoever he was. He was probably evil anyway.

I stood up and screamed. I screamed about everything related to my job. The job I suddenly found myself hating. Too bad I did want to go to that ball. But if it were to help Mary against a wicked fairy…

Monica.

Keys in hand, I ran back down to the parking lot. Monica hardly ever left her salon.

I turned out onto the road, approaching Harrison Boulevard. If it were a prank, Monica would be involved. If it weren't, and Monica really were a fairy… well, then I was probably doing something incredibly stupid.

Finally, there it was. The little beauty school tucked into its charming position against the street. Kendra's PT Cruiser was there. The lights were on. I parked and with a deep breath climbed from the car.

The door was unlocked. Oh, but I probably was walking into a trap. How blonde could I be and what was preventing me to go back home like a normal person? But girls didn't get to become Homecoming Queens or apparently fairy godmothers by being smart. I pushed it open.

The school was empty save for the very two people I expected. Kendra sat stiffly in a chair, smile wiped from her face. Pacing the floor in front of her was Monica, hair perfect, make-up perfect, smile perfect as she tapped my wand against her palm.

"Tansy!" she exclaimed as I entered. "I am quite happy to see you here. I hoped you would show up. Didn't know if you'd try to ignore Kendra's bad behavior and just hope no one noticed a missing magic wand."

"It really is magic, Tansy," Kendra whispered. "I thought you were just joking, I thought Monica was just joking, but it really is magic."

I rolled my eyes at her. My dear best friend was an idiot. "I told you it was magic."

"I asked Kendra to get it for me. Couldn't find it when I went through your apartment." Monica ran the wand under her nose as if to smell it. "Who makes these for your boss?"

"I don't know," I said. "He just… just gives them to us."

"Of course he does. Churns them out by the dozens in hopes of finding the fairy godmother who can break his curse. Quite the enterprising business he made of it, I must admit. Fairy godmothers. I should have thought of it first. Princesses. So much more interesting than the bored housewives sitting in my graduates' chairs. Did I ever tell you, Tansy, just how proud I am of you? Working on princesses! Fairy tale princesses! Of course, I had never much cared for them. Princes, yes."

"Fiardiltia." The name was odd on my tongue. I felt geeky just saying it.

Monica, of Fiardiltia, looked up. "Oh, I love it when people are nice enough to use my real name! Yes?"

"Why do you need my wand?" Lovely question. Had I really come so far to ask something so stupid?

"If it belongs to Rowan," she said. "I want it. I cursed him. I want to keep track of him. And I certainly do no want him trying to get out of his curse. He rejected me! Look at me. This form is quite beautiful. My latest daytime model of Rowan, a sloppy middle-aged gentleman, why wouldn't he like this? But were I in my real form…"

A blast of light lit the room, and there stood a tall woman, blindly beautiful, though that could have just been the light. A second later and it was once more Monica.

Kendra started to cry.

"You cursed him, then. That part was true."

"I prefer the classics. Come on, he's human all the way through. He could be a dog or something during the day. I don't know why it bothers him so much. But getting wands like these…" She pursed her lips. "Someone is helping him. Who is helping him? Do you know, Tansy?"

"I don't know."

She laughed and handed the wand back to me. "Then find out."

I probably should not have trusted her. But my wand was back and Kendra was hyperventilating at my side and repeating over and over how sorry she was and how she had no idea what was going on.

I just wanted to sleep.


	24. Snow White Says Thankyou!

Kendra hugged me goodbye at my doorstep. It was just like a girl date. She was still hyperventilating and I wondered just what she would think of everything in the morning. Maybe pass it off as a very bizarre dream in which she had played the bad role. Not quite the villain, just the villain's pawn or lackey or whatever they were called.

As for myself, I just couldn't believe my beloved instructor was actually an evil fairy who had once had the hots for my boss who was really under a curse she had put on him. Life sure was fascinating.

So I figured Kendra and I had both been through enough and that we might as well call it even, though I wasn't sure what I had done to her that required an idea of evening out things. But at least I forgave her. My poor, deluded, incredibly artistic best friend.

I truly had a lot to think about. Lots and lots and I didn't know how I was ever going to process it all. Life sure was a ridiculous mess. Was I supposed to feel bad for Rowe or Rowan or whatever I was supposed to call him? Yes, I was still incredibly attracted to Rowe.

Gross.

I entered the apartment and threw myself down on the newly slip-covered couch. How could I hate Kendra for stealing my magic wand for an evil fairy when she was such a fantastic decorator? Here was to truly hoping this would all come off as a dream for her. I stared at my bookshelf, right at the Complete Works of the Brother's Grimm. Fairy tales. Always fairy tales. Chock full of transformation. It was supposed to be romantic. But why did Rowan have to be so weird? Nevertheless, I got up, pulled the book from the shelf, and flipped to a random tale. I fell asleep that way.

Thankfully, my alarm clock was loud enough to rouse me up just in time. I looked awful. My hair was a mess, I had not removed my make-up, and it was wonderfully because it made for me the perfect excuse to hop into the shower. I used sudsy shampoo that smelled like apples, I used a sugar scrub, and I straightened my hair flat.

I didn't usually where my hair down. I had always thought wearing one's hair down was boring. But as I studied my reflection in the mirror I decided I liked it. It was… normal. Pretty. I matched it with bright yellow eye shadow, realized how incredibly gorgeous I was, and decided it was the perfect day to take on evil fairies and enchanted men and all those princesses.

I marched into the salon with my head held high and a smile on my pink-lipsticked lips. Mary also smiled when she spotted me. "You look happy."

"My best friend stole my magic wand last night."

"What?" Her face looked good with surprise. She had managed some eyeliner. Made her surprised eyes really pop. "Who?"

"Kendra. You should meet. I imagine you would instantly hit it off."

"She took your wand? Tansy, you know you're not supposed to go waving that thing around and announcing to the world what it is! For one thing they'll all think you're absolutely crazy and for another bad things like getting it stolen happen."

"Don't worry, I got it back." I pulled it from my purse as an example. "She gave it to an evil fairy. Your evil fairy."

"Fiardiltia?"

"That's such an awful name."

"I know." Mary sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I can't believe this. I hate fairies. I hate my own kind. Well, my mom's kind, anyway. Why couldn't I have been a mere full mortal? At least less fairy kind."

"Did you talk to…" I nodded at the boss' door, unsure of how to anymore refer to the man. "Him?"

She nodded. "He seemed surprised, but he said he didn't see why we probably couldn't attend. All of us. He thought it would be fun for everyone, actually. He's going to talk to people, see if he can't make it a big cross-story to-do. Does that sound like he's plotting something to you? He must be involved with Fiardiltia."

"I don't think he is. When I went to get my wand back last night, well, she seemed really pissed off at him."

"It could have been just an act."

"I don't think it was."

"You sound so sure." She pursed her lips and leaned forward. "She put the spell on him. Is this important to you?"

I shrugged. Last night's fairy tale indulgence had been absolutely no help. Was I really such a silly hopeless romantic? "I guess I say I believe it wasn't him when he said he didn't attack us."

"Then who attacked us?"

"That's what I would like to know. I should get to the salon. See who is coming in."

All the girls stared at me as I entered. All those eyes, staring at me in fascination and worry.

"Are you all right?" Brittany asked.

"About what?" They hadn't heard about the attack, had they?

"You were attacked in the Snow White door. You and Mary."

Veronica nodded emphatically.

"We all heard about it," Linda said. "Fairy tale disaster stories don't stay secret here."

"Oh, yeah. It was… well, it was absolutely terrifying." I told the story briefly, leaving out the part about Rowe. Probably made the story make no sense, but if they had heard everything, they already knew. "Does that happen often?"

"Sometimes things happen, but nothing like that!" Alexis said. "Maybe you're bad luck. Don't worry, I still adore you."

"Bad luck. Of course." I settled at my station and picked up my appointment book. Oh, no. My first one was Snow White. Would she show this time?

And she did. She strutted through the door in a pale pink dress, looking moodier than ever.

"Hello, Tansy," she snapped as she sat in the chair.

"Hello, Snow White," I said tentatively. "Are you all right?

"No. As you perfectly well know."

"Last night?"

"What else? Stupid comb. Some woman comes by, tries to sell me a comb, then proceeds to stab me with it. Luckily the dwarves came by soon." She smiled warmly at that.

Oh, dear. She had just shown a sign of a heart. "Um, that was me."

"That was you!" She jerked so much the hairbrush I was lowering fell from my hands. "The little creeps told me they saved me! You pulled the comb out?"

I didn't dare answer.

"Of course you would. Because you're nice. Thank-you, Tansy. No other beautician would have ever done that for me."

"You're welcome." Basic response, but it was the first thing out of my mouth. And it worked. Appropriate. I had just never expected to be thanked by Snow White before.

I wondered if I should warn her about the corset.

It was my lunch break. I was getting my sandwich out of the fridge when Mr. Maser/Rowe appeared. He stepped into our little staff area, looking sheepish to be there.

We were the only two.

Incredibly awkward.

I stared at him. My pop was freezing my hand. "You."

He nodded. "Me."

I continued to stare. I had always thought staring was rude, but in this situation I simply couldn't help it. Who was this?

"Did you think about what I said?"

I nodded. "I don't think you're evil."

"You don't?" He exhaled. Apparently he had been holding his breath awhile. "That's a relief."

"Is that all you're going to say? I'm hungry."

"Did you believe me about the curse?"

At that moment I really did. I just couldn't say it. Instead I marched from the room. "I don't date older men."


End file.
